


Krystalline

by EternalKaltes8



Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Fantasy, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 62,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalKaltes8/pseuds/EternalKaltes8
Summary: A Krystal-centric and (largely) original character driven story. My attempt at giving Krystal the story she has always deserved in my eyes. As a warning I will say this will not be a standard Star Fox story and as whole will have nothing to do with the team themselves. Entirely alternate universe.
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Anya sighed in annoyance. The pervasive jungle heat only adding to her frustration. The sun hung like a damnable ball of hellfire in the sky, it's beams of light peeking between the topmost leaves and peppering the moist ground sporadically. Strands of her burgundy hair clung to her neck and currently she'd much rather be back at the settlement taking a long shower.

Carefully she passed beneath some wide, oval shaped leaves. The trees here were similar to earth rain forest trees. Powerfully built and stretching from their roots to what seemed to be the endless sky. The bottom leaves smaller compared to their upper brethren. And, rather than green, they were blue in coloration. Depending on your perspective, the leaves got bigger the further up you went or smaller as you went down.

Anya grunted awkwardly as a few leaves dribbled water on the back of her neck and coveralls. The proper defense squad for the fledgling settlement had been delayed for whatever reason and therefore it fell to them to oversee protective measures of the area.

Scans had shown a ship had touched down not too far from the area in the night and it hadn't responded to their signals, hence why she was out here.

"Skeld, do you copy?" Anya spoke into her communicator she wore on her left wrist, the high powered shotgun she carried prodding like an extended limb past some low hanging limbs. "Skeld? Answer me, do you copy?" There were too few settlers with any sort of combat training to send out a proper team. It was odd. Three hundred and fifty years of advancement and people still refused to take proper precautions when it came to the safety of the others.

Hell, even the term "combat trained" was a stretch. Anya knew how to carry and fire a gun. That was it. She wasn't military, government or private. Nor was Skeld. The man was fast and loose when it came to answering communications on the job and frankly had Anya been a supervisor she would have fired him years ago. Climbing ranks had never interested the woman but there moments she wished she had legal power to make such decisions.

The incessant heat, the thirty six hour stretches of sunlight, an incompetent co-worker, Anya snarled into her communicator: "Answer me now, you fucking idiot!"

At that exact moment something stumbled with a dazed clumsiness into her back, however what was more startling was a fresh wetness that oozed onto her right shoulder. Yelping she untangled herself from the reaching limbs, her boots squishing into the mud and wheeling about swiftly to train her weapon on her potential attacker.

Lying on the floor, dead, was Skeld. His dirty blonde hair caked with fresh blood and sweat, face passive, reminiscent of a mannequin. Right arm curled up to his neck like a child pulling his blanket over himself in the night.

Cautiously, Anya stooped to inspect, her senses now crackling in a state of hyper awareness; she felt she could perceive everything. From the top of the trees and every creature that lived in and outside of its trunk and branches, the veins of the leaves and dark blades of grass.

He looked as though he'd been bludgeoned about the head with something...rustling and excited growls and exclamatory grunts alerted her and her instinct told her to run but she held her ground. She didn't like Skeld, but she couldn't just leave his body, and everyone would want to know who or what had slain him.

With a method decidedly lacking in grace the attackers burst through the foliage and Anya couldn't help but incredulously raise a brow in puzzlement. The two were humanoid dinosaurs! Broad shouldered but on the rather stocky side of things. Armored in something that looked medieval and brandishing spiked maces. The two growled and snorted at the sight of her, clearly not expecting a second.

In most cases protocol dictated she must do everything in her power to try and take them alive but in this case Anya couldn't give less of a damn.

She fired without hesitation, shooting the first of the dinosaur men squarely in the face, the blue flash of the muzzle and the hot casing ejecting from the side. The saurian went down instantly, fragments of skull and helmet spraying about in a mess.

The second had leapt to the side, frightened by the sudden death of its compatriot and the thunderclap of the gun. Its yellow eyes showed a specific sort of panic wash over it, the kind of panic where one realizes they've bitten off more than they can chew. Anya pumped off another round, it hit the dinosaur-looking being in the chest. Its mace fell from its three-fingered hand and the impact sent it backing into a tree, clutching at its chest. It breathed painfully, eyes rolling glassily in its skull as it fell in a dead heap to the jungle floor.

Anya's senses told her to move again.

An ax cut through the air and she cursed as she barely managed to avoid it. Losing her footing and landing on her side in the muddy slop of the ground she saw an additional four had joined the fray. Three were more or less identical copies of the two she had just snuffed out, the foremost was taller and bulkier. Dark green scales and brandishing a battle ax and wisely, was carrying a heavy duty shield in its other hand. Growling it pulled its mud smeared blade from the ground as Anya feverishly backpeddled before finally regaining her footing. She fired again but the burly saurian simply angled its shield over its face, blocking the attack.

Scrambling to a proper standing position she took off, hearing the dinosaur man bark out an order in what must been their language. Their footsteps were heavy; lacking in grace but given their number at the moment it was irrelevant. Anya winced as leaves and branches brushed her face and the muddy ground nearly made her lose her footing more than once. With the dense jungle and treacherous ground it seemed the very spirit of this planet's nature wanted her to perish. Panting she registered the sound of water and banked quickly to the right, slapping a heftier branch out of the way she ran harder, the oppressive heat a mere afterthought as her heart hammered in her chest.

She snarled to herself when the land dipped into a small hill, the mud sending her sliding down to the banks of a rather modest river. She hissed between her teeth and pebbles scattered like tiny asteroids from her impact, catching herself on her arms and knees did little to prevent pain. But at least she'd avoided landing hard on her face. Her legs smeared with mud and gasping for air she fumbled with her weapon. They clearly were still coming and forcing herself to remain even-headed and detached Anya scanned the environment.

Though not of especially unusual or great size, the river current was strong and right now she didn't want to risk being swept away to wherever it led. From her peripheral she registered motion but before she could discern it the largest of the saurian men sprang from above; eyes wild with excitement at having caught up to her from the brief chase. Anya dove to the side but saw two of the other reptiles had cut her off, grinning maliciously and mocking her in their strange language.

The largest, flanked by its smaller companion approached from behind. They knew Anya's shotgun did not possess unlimited ammo, and right now she was too tired from the day's search and the skirmish to even have a prayer at matching them hand to hand.

But still, that didn't mean she was going to sit there and take things quietly. She hated this damn planet and she didn't want to die here.

Whipping around unexpectedly she fired, hitting the large one in the shoulder and taking off a chunk. He bellowed and flailed about almost cartoonishly, swearing.

Another shot answered.

A whooshing ball of fire pelted the smaller in the back lifting him off his feet and sending him planting face first at Anya's mud caked boots. A smoldering crater in his back.

Unbelievably, standing on the rocks was what was indisputably a blue and white, humanoid fox. And most definitely female. Garbed in little else than a top and loincloth she stood battle ready, wielding only a stunning staff. Tipped with a jeweled arrowhead like point, golden and engraved all down the length of its gripping section.

The vixen's tail swished back and forth in careful consideration of her next move and despite the fantastical nature of everything that was happening it didn't escape Anya's keen deduction there was recognition, a hateful one, in the dinosaurs. All their focus was on her now and they immediately sprinted into action.

The vixen leapt from her vantage point flipping through the air and to their surprise, squarely in the center of what was now a trio. Sweeping her staff she tripped the two the smaller ones, the one closer to the river panicking as his mace plopped into the river. The tip of the staff opened as the vixen woman jabbed it hard at the largest saurian; a burst of kinetic energy connected to the armored sternum and sent him soaring into the wet stones. Whether he was dead or unconscious Anya didn't care as she watched in a stupefied state as the vixen kicked the unarmed of the two in the face with a toned leg, sending him neatly into the river. He splashed about fearfully and snatch at a root jutting from the side of the path the river had carved countless years ago, but it merely gave way into clumps of wet earth and he was carried away and out of side.

The final saurian roared, enraged and swung at the blue-furred savior. Rather than block she spun aside with such grace she may as well have been performing a dance move. From her staff she fired a concentration of frost that washed over the dinosaur man. Even in the jungle heat and the distance from where she stood Anya could feel an ambient chill and within seconds the dinosaur was encased in ice. Head to foot. Flash frozen. Glinting like a statue in the half light.

The vixen woman now turned to Anya. Strands of her blue hair were beaded ornately. She did not regard Anya with hostility, but she did keep her weapon drawn. Blinking rapidly to snap herself out of her stupor Anya slung her weapon over her shoulder, briefly showing her empty palms.

The vixen's staff condensed neatly and with such speed Anya nearly jumped and the woman attached it to her hip. Clearly it was an advanced weapon. Likely surpassing anything she or anyone back at the settlement possessed in terms of their armory. 

Looking at her Anya could tell the vixen was young, perhaps slightly younger than herself. Lithe and strong but it was her eyes that struck her the most. The saying that the eyes are the window to the soul still prevailed among humans and the vixen's were striking. There was clearly multifaceted intelligence, but also a kindness and a unique strength that lived alongside it harmoniously.

Anya finally mustered a proper vocabulary, her mouth irritatingly dry.

"Thank you."

The vixen's ears twitched and her head tilted curiously.

_"Shit, I don't think she speaks english,"_ Anya fretted over how to possibly communicate with her. Who was she? What was her name? Was it her ship they detected touching down last night? Did she know those saurian men because they clearly recognized her?

She held up a hand, smiling slightly. If it was a gesture meant to sooth it worked as she slowly began to approach. The wet pebbles beneath her sandaled feet crunched and rattled as she closed the distance. Were it not for the kindness in her eyes Anya would feel apprehensive. With a precision that must have been familiar to her the vixen raised her hands, holding them just inches apart from either side of Anya's head, her own eyes flitted to the shapely hands in a quiet bewilderment.

The river flowing ever present seemed to be drifting further and further away until its sound became a white noise as footsteps fading in the distance into silence.

The vixen closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.

Anya registered a tingling sensation about her body, the inside of her skull hummed and from her now closed eyes she saw swirling patterns of starry consciousness ebbing and flowing like water and spiraling out in all directions like a silent firework. There was another presence in her mind, merging with the universe inside her with a careful consideration. Delicately searching and understanding. Together these minds intertwined in a unique intimacy, joining as a river pours into a endless ocean that held all that ever was, is and will be. Flying endlessly in an internal universe far more vast than the one that humans are born into.

The other consciousness receded and Anya's mind was no longer cohabited. Snapping out of the metaphysical state she gasped, nearly falling over were it not for the vixen catching her. Her arms hung limply at her sides and her chin rested on the exposed, fur coated shoulder. It occurred to Anya how exhausted she was now.

"Are you alright, Anya?" The vixen spoke in clear english now, in accent that was highly reminiscent of a British accent. Light and musical in tone, but strong. Anya eased herself back up and out of her savior's arm, feeling more than a little self conscious at the closeness and at one point laying a hand on the other female's side from nearly losing balance again. The vixen paid it no mind, only tilting her head curiously. Angular ears flicking subtly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she rubbed her temple, managing to muster a small grin, the first one she's cracked all day, "thank you."

The female fox nodded, smiling.

"What did you-,"

"Do? I read your mind to understand your language, forgive me in the process took a bit of a toll on you, entering another's mind to that degree can be a bit of a shock."

"You're psychic?"

"Yes," she smiled, "you seem to be adept yourself."

Anya raised a brow at how casual she spoke the latter half of her response. It wasn't everyday one was claimed to be a psychic, but for the time being there were other concerns.

"And...can I ask your name?"

"Krystal."

"Ah, well," Anya cleared her throat and extended a hand, "pleasure to meet you Krystal."

Krystal regarded the gesture curiously, her ringed tail swishing as she understood it must be a form of greeting and careful not to offend gripped Anya's hand so carefully that the human almost laughed. Holding her as if her hand was made of the finest china that might crumble to pieces if gripped too hard. She noticed that at most Krystal was only a tad shorter in stature, and though unmistakably feminine in build she clearly had well developed muscle and given the swiftness and grace with which she had dealt with the attackers meant she was a well trained fighter. Anya's eyes briefly glanced at the staff still attached to Krystal's left hip. Pristine and exquisitely crafted. Its length engraved with what she could only guess were runic symbols.

"We better get moving before more Sharpclaw arrive," Krystal scanned the surrounding trees, ears shifting about as she discerned what noises were generated by hostiles or otherwise.

"Those dinosaur bastards? Is this their homeworld?" Anya inquired, frankly she was tired, dirty and sore; but curiosity had always been a strong attribute she had possessed all her life and it was better to be alert than be kept in ignorance. She followed Krystal up the rocks, rearing back slightly when the fluffy tip of Krystal's tail brushed against her chest. Naturally following someone with a tail would be a tad different than following someone without. She almost laughed. Even walking up the uneven rocky terrain Krystal moved with a natural poise. The stones glistened like the armor of some unknown sleeping earth beast.

"No, but a scout ship landed several hours ago and if they are scouting they must be looking for something," Krystal responded, assisting in pulling Anya up the last rocky step and back into the mouth of the jungle. A siren bird call sounded from above. Looking at her now, Krystal almost blended in the with the trees and were she deliberately concealing herself one would be at a significant disadvantage at trying to detect her.

"Or someone," Anya proposed.

"Possibly.

It wouldn't become night again for another day or so. Though the sun had shifted its heat was still harsh and obscene for the sake of it. In many ways it was fortunate there were so many trees. The thought of full exposure to it made Anya shudder.

"The people I'm with have a settlement some ways away now, I went off the beaten path, as it were."

"Mm," Krystal vocalized as she thought. "I think we should take refuge and rest for awhile before we travel there. You're clearly exhausted," Krystal looked at Anya knowingly. Anya's right foot shifted slightly and oddly she struggled to maintain eye contact. Krystal didn't strike her as the nosy sort but she remembered she was in the presence of a telepath who's proficiency was advanced to such a degree she could learn an entire foreign tongue in minutes. Anya was well accustomed to suffering things in silence and as such she rarely expected anybody to be observant or even considerant.

"Yeah," Anya breathed out, "yeah. Seems like a good idea."

"I have a camp not too far from here," she gestured with a hand in a eastward direction. "Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

Weaving along the specifically memorized path Krystal had chosen proved to be easier than Anya had expected. The vixen appeared to know soft spots and subtle openings that were easily passable compared to the dense hellhole she had had to practically battle her way through. Krystal moved with a gracefulness that Anya felt few would be hard pressed to match, effortlessly ducking or slipping beside a branch or a leaf. Anya could tell that Krystal was slowing herself deliberately as to allow Anya to copy her motions as competently as she was able.

"It's important to avoid disturbing the branches whenever possible," Krystal explained casually, unafraid of the jungle or potential pursuers alike. "A competent tracker looks for such things, not just footprints."

The ground was far less muddy in the area they were in, grassy and lush. The grass more vibrant and alive even when held up in mental comparison to other planets Anya had been to in previous travels.

"Aren't you worried we're being followed?" Anya asked, her brown eyes sparing a surveying glance about the trees and bushes. Wary of more...Sharpclaw, as Krystal had called them. Or a jungle predator.

"Not at all. I'd sense them before they got too close, this area is light on predatory animals that could pose a threat to us as well. You needn't be afraid," she gave Anya a gentle smile and again her eyes seemed to peer through her entirety with an earnestness that transcended every human she'd ever met in her life.

"Who said I was afraid?" To say Anya was afraid would be a bit of stretch. She'd been to planets of near perpetual winter, volcanic havens where simply leaving the window open could result in a toxic demise. "Are you...reading my thoughts?"

"No, but I can sense your emotions in an ambient way," Krystal delicately brushed a leafy branch out of her way as she continued. "Careful, there are rocks," she began descending down a series of them, navigating her way down its right path; Anya saw for herself it was in actuality the mouth of a small cave. The rocks were so smooth and precise she wondered if this had been someone's home once. Well concealed too.

Several feet away was a herd of what Anya and the settlers could only describe as colossal tortoises. Scouts who had briefed them on notable wildlife found that their resemblance to the earth animals was particularly uncanny; to the point where one of the men had joked that some group of tortoises must have flown to space and populated the planet years ago. However, there were differences. For one they were of a size comparable to a rhinoceros. Their forelimbs tipped with sharp claws over a foot in length and incredibly thick. Likely used for digging. Perfect shells with dense plates neatly layered over the other and long tails that tapered into a slim point.

It had been noted that both males and females possessed a series of pearly bumps along their forelimbs and down the length of their whip-tails, the purpose of them unknown.

The family consisted of six, the eldest clearly discernible among them with his leathery hide and the size of his tusks. That was another thing: They possessed teeth. Males specifically having tusks on their lower jaws, one on each side. Though despite their sharpness the family made no move to attack, the patriarch briefly acknowledged them slowly. The alien tortoise never blinked, even as his youngest offspring ate away at something they had dug up from the ground. The eyes ancient, opaque wells that memorized them. Filing them away along with the countless plethora of other lifeforms and strange creatures he had seen over his centuries long existence.

"They're omnivorous, if you're wondering," Krystal spoke softly so as not to disturb them, smiling. "They prefer a plant based diet overall," she looked up at the sky in consideration, shielding her eyes from the glaring sun with a blue-furred hand. "It's a shame you won't get to see them after dark, they possess bio-luminescence."

Anya cocked a brow at that tidbit. Though frankly that was far less startling than walking, talking dinosaur men.

Krystal gestured towards the small cave. Anya sighed in relief as the inside was much cooler, still warm, but nowhere near as tortuous as outside. Despite still only being introduced...how long had the day been? Anya had long since lost track of time, certainly no thanks in part to the daylight and the attack.

And the murder.

 _"Skeld."_ Anya felt rueful when she realized at this point getting his body back was never going to happen. The jungle had certainly already claimed it. Predators and scavengers alike never missed an opportunity, no matter the planet.

Both sat across from each other. Krystal was already quite comfortable around the burgundy haired woman, she wished they had met under more pleasant circumstances. But she could not deny that she was relieved to have found someone so quickly. She'd beaten the Sharpclaw to the planet by about four days but the scanners on her modest shuttle couldn't handle the density of the jungle and she'd been using her telepathy to feel out a general direction towards the settlers. She'd planned to set out today but then she'd felt the distressed emotions. Emotions like fear and pain were of the utmost unpleasant to feel, even if she did not know them. She'd sensed the panic of fighting for and clinging desperately to life and the brutal banality of the Sharpclaw soldiers as they relished in finally getting to hurt someone. A sickening swirl of emotions that danced like an inky black cloud.

Anya slipped her shotgun off, carefully propping it up beside and unbuttoned the stifling coveralls. She hated the ugly gray color of them and cursed the fact she hadn't worn something lighter. She opened them down to her waist, grimacing at the sweat that soaked the ice blue tank top she wore. Her body was reasonably toned and strong, slightly more so than what would be expected of someone who occupied her profession. Her pale skin gleaming with a layer of perspiration and she allowed herself to enjoy the cooler interior of the cave. Even if she most certainly looked like a unwashed mess in front of another woman for the time being.

Acknowledging the blue vixen Anya knew she had to ask the question that had plagued her.

"Who are the Sharpclaw, and-,"

"Why are they here?" Krystal finished, not needing telepathy to deduce the impending inquiries. "It's a long story, but to summarize: The Sharpclaw are a dinosaur tribe native to Sauria, a planet very far away from here."

Anya listened intently, arms resting on her knees as she drank in the knowledge.

"Their leader, a murderous tyrant named General Scales has been on a warpath for quite sometime," Krystal went on. For how long Scales had been on his path of bloody conquest she was uncertain. Oddly for a Sharpclaw his mind was difficult to probe, even when in direct proximity to the general. She'd never intended to get involved in a planetary conflict that Scales was hellbent on turning into a galaxy spanning one after the destruction of her homeworld but the suffering of peaceful Sauria was something she could not abide.

Cerinia had been a peaceful world, and preventing the suffering and death of any innocent being had been important to them. A lump formed in her throat at the memory of her home's destruction. The crushing weight of being the last of her kind. Billions of lives ended and she, in an event no premonition had told her about, was the only survivor.

Scales was not the destroyer of her world. No one truly was in any sense of the word, but she knew his sort. He'd happily inflict that same mass annihilation on any world that resisted him. As long as she breathed, Krystal would never allow that to happen. She'd tracked the Sharpclaw's movements for months at time, always trying to get ahead. To warn planets of their impending arrival, to help fight them off. Avert them entirely, if at all plausible. It was tiring; conflict was something steeped in the deepest of pains and losses that stung at her kind heart but she would not give up. And she refused to allow the horrors she had seen plunge her into cold cynicism.

"Krystal?" Anya's voice splintered her musings away and back into the realm of the present. The woman had noted a melancholic look cast over her; at one point even verging on an unspoken misery that she felt prompted to gently draw her out of it.

"Right, sorry," Krystal cleared her throat to continue. With Krystal, in the half shadows of the cave was the most Anya had felt relaxed since arriving on this planet. She had a reassuring presence about her, a kind of light that asserted that goodness and hope stood a chance in the face of the cruel evil that dominated the material world.

"Scales and his troops, the last I was able to discern, are searching for something. What exactly I'm not completely sure, but it's likely some sort of weapon."

"A superweapon?"

Krystal nodded grimly.

"Or at least something to complete it. Evidently they think it's here, somewhere on this planet."

Anya leaned her head back against the smooth rock wall, looking up at the ceiling. There was a certain sensation that preceded realization. It lacks any proper name and often exists fleetingly, but it exists. The feeling poured through Anya's body like slow lava as it shifted to the dread of knowing that they had unknowingly put themselves in the path of a warmonger who would not hesitate to slaughter every single one of them the moment he knew of their existence. Provided he didn't know already.

Something touching her partially bare shoulder elicited a startled half yelp from Anya as she turned her attention to a curious tendril that had reached out to her from above. Unprepared for the noise the small animal scurried across the wall. Its gelatinous body glinting in the light it passed through quickly.

Two more clung to the ceiling's farthest corner. The largest about the size of a cat shifted to make room for its second young. Each had ten tentacles and resembled a mixture of an octopus and jellyfish. A bulbous and soft looking head, the suckers of the tentacles adhering them to the cave walls. Three large eyes, verging on cartoonish, curiously watched her. The parent coiling a tendril protectively around the startled baby as it trilled.

"Sorry," Krystal raised the back of her hand to her muzzle in a suppression of a giggle, "I probably should have warned you about them."

Anya's breathing slowed; her cheeks warm with embarrassment at not having noticed them earlier.

"They're harmless. If anything it's good they're around, they eat pests."

Krystal rearranged a series of carefully placed stones and revealed a large jungle leaf. Neatly wrapped and bound with thin vine she laid it out in the middle of the floor and undid the makeshift twine to bare a collection of ripe purple berries and sun yellow mushrooms.

"There should be enough for us both," Krystal smiled kindly, casting thoughts of her world and of Scales out of her mind for the time being. Anya was clearly tired.

"Are you sure?" Anya asked, ever self conscious about accepting help. Especially from someone who by all rights was a stranger.

 _"Though how much of a stranger is she really? She read my mind after all...,"_ Anya mentally trailed off. Oddly, for such an intimate probing of her mind she did not feel violated. And in spite of the situation she felt at ease around Krystal, there was almost a familiarity about her. An easy peace that imprinted a distinct feeling of meeting someone you were meant to.

"Of course," she gently insisted. Smiling that Anya didn't need to be told twice.

\----

The Sharpclaw soldier moved through the halls of the behemoth ship that was the pride of the Sharpclaw military: **The Titanosaurus.** Never before in the countless generations of the tribe had such a space faring fleet been at their disposal. At nearly thirty thousand meters in size they had encountered few ships in the expanses of outer space that could even hope to compare to it. The halls were brightly lit. Brutal in its artificiality. Though they had seen a multitude of planets beyond Sauria he, like many of his kind, was unaccustomed to it. The cold, inorganic metal. The lights and deep purr of the engines. Sharpclaw did not have a word for "homesick," which only served to exacerbate the feeling.

The soldier paused at the door to the bridge for a moment, staying just out of range of its motion detector to collect himself. But only for a moment as the general did not like to be kept waiting.

The door hissed open to reveal his fellow Sharpclaw hard at work at the controls of the ship, barely sparing him a glance as he entered. Some of them quietly chattered among themselves and he could hear brief little snippets of conversation pertaining to all manner of rather mundane subject matter. Wishing the ship had better food, what awaited them at their destination, some reminiscing of Sauria. None among them dared to speak too loudly about missing their home lest General Scales interpret it as dissent within the ranks.

Standing at the window of the bridge he silently overlooked the body of ship, all the way to its four pronged bow. The window was designed as a visor, like the eye of giant cyclops. Protective shielding could cover it at anytime as a safety precaution. Its armor black and silver with some ceremonial gold plates running up the neck of the bridge that lifted up regally like a great bird.

At well over two meters in height, General Scales stood considerably taller than even the most physically dominating of their kind. Jade green skin and wearing a red leather tunic, impossibly broad shouldered and muscular for the species. However, the soldiers who served under him could all agree that his most defining physical characteristic was the double pronged hook that sat in the place of his left hand. Oddly, no one among their numbers appeared to have a distinct explanation as to how he lost his left hand. Some claimed he lost it in his youth facing the RedEye King himself, or that it had been cut off by an opposing Sharpclaw general in the years predating his dominance over the tribe. Or even that he had sliced it off himself for some unknown purpose.

Scales had done nothing to dissuade any of these claims for they only added to his image. And he knew full well the power of fear. In his time he had discovered there were moments where the illusion of invincibility was greater than the genuine article itself.

The soldier brought his fist firmly to his chest, a traditional Sharpclaw salute. At last Scales turned, tail loftily swinging over the smooth metal floor. It bore a distorted, vague reflection of him within it. The soldier took care not to shudder at the red eyes that skewered into him. Another unusual trait. Rather than the typical yellow or green that was the standard eye color of their saurian species Scales' eyes were as red as the Pit itself. As though they might have shared the same element, a blasphemous commonality. The horns atop his helmet only made him look even taller.

"Report," Scales rarely wasted time with formalities. His voice was deep, strong and even. Even when not shouting it still stabbed the air with a preciseness befitting of a despot. The lights overhead glinted off the frightening hooks; pinpricks of light reminiscent of eyes themselves shone with clarity on the immaculate metal.

"The scouting party has not responded to our messages, general."

"For how long?" General Scales gave no indication he was disturbed or in any feasible way concerned with what he had heard. His organic, living hand rested on the hooks, fingers tapping it quietly. Compared to a few nervous glances in his vicinity the soldier was not worried. He'd known Scales long enough to realize the general's fondness for touching or tapping the metal of his hooks was less of a threat and more of a little personality tic. One of the few he could think of that Scales demonstrated. However, it did not serve to make him any less of a monster.

Reasons for following and obeying Scales varied from Sharpclaw to Sharpclaw. Some obeyed out of long lived loyalty to their tribe, no matter who led it. Others because they were every bit as cruel and arrogant as General Scales himself, merely lacking proper power and cunning to attain his level themselves. And some still believed in his grandiose talk of pushing the tribe into the future. A new age of prosperity and advancement!

Of course, anyone of reasonable intelligence could see the falsities of those claims. For they were less of reasoning and merely a smokescreen. A verbal light show to dazzle and awe the misguided. It appeared that no matter the species or the time, tyrants and would-be tyrants often shared much in common.

Others were just afraid.

"Five standard hours, general."

Scales said nothing for a moment, he had no doubt the reason behind that.

"It appears our mammalian friend has followed us even here," he deduced aloud. His lips contorted into something resembling the caricature of a smile.

"She? Following us here? Surely not!"

"Make no mistake, it is her," Scales affirmed, shifting his gaze towards the view outside once more. In contrast to much of his kind the openness of space, unlimited in its scope, did not disturb him. If anything he found it coldly reassuring. Scales had an emptiness inside himself. Not one born of tragedy or sorrow, but one of cruel desire and ambition. Scales was not an introspective being but this craving had been inside him for as long as he had cohesive memory. A crater in his twisted soul that demanded more power and dominance over life. And the whole galaxy, nay, the entire universe was food for that hunger.

And Krystal was the one who denied him the one nutrient that was greater to him that any meal. Arriving on planets and rallying any who could oppose him, hampering and even driving him back more than once. It hadn't stopped him from acquiring the technology and material needed; what couldn't be bought from arms dealers looking for easy money could be stolen or torn from those he saw fit to pry from their dead hands. But even he could not refute Krystal's effectiveness at keeping him at bay. More than once he noted how fortunate he was that those who feared him or craved power for themselves did not regard that as blood in the water. But, he supposed that was what making examples of those who even whispered that idea was for. 

And, if what he was looking for was on the planet then no one could stop him this time.

"Send forth three platoons, and ensure that they're armed with blasters this time," Scales ordered calmly. The thump of the soldier's fist against his chest asserting his orders would be followed. "Find the settlement our scans have detected and kill them. And find Krystal! There will be no room for error this time." He hissed deep in throat.

Despite the respectable size of his fleet his soldiers were lacking in firearms. Krystal had seen to that when she had proved resourceful enough to destroy entire weapon shipments some few standard months ago. From what he had seen of the scans the settlement was small; likely armed as anyone with sense would be, but outclassed in military might. The additional numbers were largely intended for Krystal. If she reached them first then that would prove to be most troublesome.

But, he smiled to himself; after the final phase of his plan was fulfilled no puny blaster or mace would compare to the godly power he would have mastery over. His eyes looked not at space now, but his reflection. Singularly acknowledging himself, his red eyes glinting at the knowledge that he held. He smiled in a way akin to someone recalling a private joke or humorous observation. In that sense it was humorous to Scales for no one beside himself and Krystal had any full awareness just what was the source of the power he wielded, but even she did not realize what he wanted would come to his grasp easier than she could foresee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More establishment of principal characters and location, including the introduction of General Scales. And I can assure you, Scales is the lead villain here.


	3. Chapter 3

**"Awaken..."**

Anya's eyes snapped open in the gloomy, quiet cave. The deep timber of an old voice echoing in the ocean of her mind as images from something beyond the physical played in her mind. Dancing and shifting as figures of light behind a veil of smoke. Soothing in its primeval existence. Stars, space changing color from pitch black to ethereal purple. A stoic, ancient face. Intangible but reminding her of stone carvings of lost civilizations. She was glad it was no longer as excruciatingly bright outside, the sun having moved into a position equatable to dusk.

Krystal still slept a few feet away. Curled up and her tail tucked close to her body. Her blue, white-tipped tail was adorned by two rings. The tail tip white and soft like sweet summer clouds.

Anya eased herself back to her feet not yet wanting to wake her. Rummaging through one of her pockets she dug out her small, handheld communicator. Gray as her coveralls with a microphone covered by bars that gave it a strangely angry appearance. Like an ill tempered little gray brick. It only had just occurred to her to try and contact the base. At this stage they must've been frantic for some sort of feedback from someone, anyone. The shock of the attack and then meeting Krystal and being so exhausted had made her completely forget about it.

Exiting the interior of the cave she noticed the tortoise herd had moved on at some point while they slept. Leaving holes in the earth and remnants of nut shells in their wake.

Thumbing the communicator on she adjusted the frequency; the grating sound of static sounded freakishly loud to her for several seconds as the otherworldly images replayed in her head. Tugging her back and forth from the physical plane and situation at hand to the figure that had been speaking to her. Anya could feel that what the figure had been saying had been of importance but frustratingly its words dimmed further and further the longer she was awake. Water slipping through her fingers and running down a smooth surface and pooling on the floor in an indistinct shape.

"Hello?" Anya spoke into the microphone. _"Several hundred years and sometimes these damn things still sound like I'm at a drive through."_

"Hello? Hello?" Another voice, a woman answered Anya.

"Hey, hello? Yes it's me, Anya," she felt elation ballooning up inside her. A flash flood of welcome relief. Wiping freshly forming sweat off her brow she smiled and continued to speak. "Mari you have no idea how good it is to your voice right now."

"Anya! Thank fuck you're alive! You had us all worried over here!" The voice of the other woman, Mari, fortunately registered loud and clear after thumbing the frequency adjuster a bit more. Cheery as ever she was. Though Anya could detect the ping of relief in her friend's tone. A subtle detail only she and few others would notice immediately.

"Where are you?"

"Uhh," Anya looked around momentarily before rolling her eyes. There was nothing but jungle for miles so looking around was not going to aid her much. "I'm at a cave right now, small one. Probably a few miles from base. Came here from a little river."

Anya paused to catch her breath. Debating about what to reveal and what to save for in person. Mari was a sub-supervisor, higher up on the food chain than Anya herself. And one of the few people there Anya knew was competent. And even fewer she could call a friend in the sincere sense of the term.

"Mari, tell everyone at the base to be on high alert. I was attacked, and Skeld...," she wet her dry lips, shifting on one foot. "Skeld is dead."

"What!?"

She could picture Mari now; shooting up from her chair and gripping her communicator and a frown crossing her features as the full severity of the situation came to the surface.

"What about who or whatever did it?"

Anya could keenly detect the clatter and scraping of Mari hurriedly moving items on her desk about, looking for something.

"I was rescued by someone. She's with me now and she'll be coming back to base with me. The bastards who did it are dead but she says there's a whole army coming."

"An army?" Mari repeated. "Shit."

"Yeah," the word sounded numb. Hollow and tired.

"Guess that explains why we haven't heard a thing from our military protection in days," Mari mused over the other line.

"You think they ran into the army the killers are a part of?"

"Most likely. Not kidding when I say I haven't heard a peep outta them in days. No one has," Mari sighed. "Even the tech guys can't get a thing. I'd better tell them to be on alert for jamming frequencies too..."

Anya reflexively nodded, feeling silly afterwards. They weren't out of trouble yet. Far from it. If Mari or anyone else could contact the military in time they could have a fleet over in a matter of days but Anya fretted they didn't have that much time left. She didn't fear death like many others do. When one journeys through space it's crucial to not have that fear; but the dread of an impending legion's arrival headed by a tyrant ignited a fear that was new to her. Alien life was not entirely unfamiliar to humans and despite centuries of extraterrestrial invasion films the species had had good fortune when it came to its contacts.

It appeared that luck had just expired.

 _"Well, not entirely,"_ Anya smiled at the thought of Krystal. Already incredibly fond of her.

"Anya, you and that new friend of yours get back here safe. And soon, remember, night is still a thing here."

"Is that an order, commander?" Anya smiled to herself, satisfied at finally being able to get a quip at Mari who so often found herself able to one up Anya when it came to humor.

"I haven't been a commander in six years, fire hair," she could hear the soft smile in Mari's tone. "I'll see you when you get back."

The communicator was silent again. Staring facelessly up at Anya.

 **"Anya, get back inside, now!"** Krystal's voice urgently sliced into her thoughts. Vibrating inside her skull, she clutched her head in surprise.

Facing her, Krystal stood at the mouth of the cave half bathed in shadow. Beckoning with her fingers. **"Hurry, please."**

Anya dashed back in at her instruction, peering back outside and beginning to draw her gun. Krystal extended her staff and gestured for Anya to crouch low and stay behind her. Retreating a few steps inward Krystal kept her staff aimed towards the outside world. Her ears subtly shifting and swiveling cautiously, tail hovering over the floor.

Understanding she could hear her thoughts right now Anya asked if there were more Sharpclaw. Expecting a telepathic response the vibration of Krystal's voice in her head was not as startling. 

**"No, not Sharpclaw. Predators."**

Again, silence. Anticipation of the potential for violence had a distinct, precise way in which it seemed to slow time to a trickle. Neither Krystal or Anya dared to move a muscle as they watched and waited.

Outside a pack emerged. Five in number. The largest in the lead. In appearance they superficially resembled a combination of wolves and coyotes. Possessing a wiry strength they were clearly built for speed. Their backs covered in quills that shifted from brown at the base and white to the tips. Flat tails with long strands of wispy hair meant to detect the presence of other animals and enormous ears that verged on bat-like. Ears that had honed and evolved to be able to detect sound and pinpoint its location through dense foliage. Large paws. Fur brown, like tree bark. Even at the distance they stood they could see fangs protruding from their black lips.

The two largest were, if earth pack animal logic carried over to this planet; most likely the parents. The third perhaps being a young adult years barely out of cubhood. The smallest two being cubs. They snuffled at the ground, clearly interested in the varied and clashing scents. The big male's gaze lifted to the cave. His eyes chips of blue, like the leaves. The multitude of quills on his back flared slightly, not in a full aggressive display but an indication of thought. Questioning the risk. He could not see them but he undoubtedly suspected their presence. The flaring nostrils of his brown speckled nose further signifying his interest.

Take the risk and make a move on the cave? The predatory mind reasoned there could be prey but there were so many scents, numerous in number, it was unclear how many potentially lay in wait. Only three of them were combat worthy at the present time. And the lingering scent of the tortoises only left him more uncertain. His kind did not hunt the tortoises; at adult size they were more than a match for him and even so their shells were nigh impenetrable. There had been a herd grazing here not too long ago...

Had whatever was in the cave driven them off?

Deeming it was not worth the risk the parents set off, grunting for their children to follow. The mother barked for a lingering and too curious cub to hurry up. It was the last to scamper off. Unaware of the life and death situation that had played out like a silent phantom. Lost in a blissful youth that had a short half life, as the cub would one day discover.

Krystal waited for a solid minute before condensing her weapon down to its more compact mode. Anya's legs ached from hunkering down for so long.

"Are you alright?" Krystal inquired, inspecting the human woman with her eyes. The half dark of the cave made them stand out all the more.

Anya only nodded. Krystal reassuringly placed a hand on her left shoulder; though typically sensitive to touch Anya found it surprisingly welcome as she felt a calm sensation ebb into her muscles.

"We best be heading to your camp now. I can retrace my steps back to the river but you'll have to take me the rest of the way."

Anya nodded again, slinging her shotgun over her shoulder.

Krystal reminded herself she still had a gracious amount of time. Scales and the full might of the Sharpclaw had not yet arrived and from the bit of conversation she had awoken to from Anya and the other woman they were hopefully taking proper precautions. Leading the way back up the rocks she spared a watchful glance the direction the pack had left. It was better to be safe.

Certain they were gone she led the way.

Krystal found the future somewhat uncertain. She knew Anya was trustworthy. Guarded and intelligent, a fast learner. But it did cross her mind that there could be obstacles that amounted to more than just limited forces against Scales. What if they did not listen to reason?

Breathing out meditatively she opted to deal with that when the time came. There was no sense in dwelling on what was not a certainty.

\----

A three dimensional hologram of the planet's largest mountain hovered before General Scales. Shimmering and flickering in candle like incandescence. The holographic projection's red haze filled the entirety of the bridge with a hellish glow, spanning over the walls and ceiling. Oozing over the windows like fresh blood and giving space itself a red hue. The hologram rotated slowly, mechanical in its method.

"Tell me more of this mountain, what have you learned?" Scales instructed once he had looked it over what he regarded as an appropriate number of times. From its wide base and up the length of its body, the multitude of points and edges and cliffs. In scope the mountain would be enormous by anyone's standards. Like a maze in complexity and every bit as treacherous.

But Scales was interested in none of that. Only one thing about it held any sort of crucial importance for him.

"Our scans show that the mountain's largest peak," a Sharpclaw spoke, tapping the tallest of the pointed spires to focus the hologram exclusively on that portion, "is likely hollow."

"'Likely'?" Scales echoed, sneering. "You'd best be certain. I have no desire to waste resources in what amounts to glorified sightseeing."

"Statistics say it's ninety nine percent likely, general," the Sharpclaw spoke as even as possible. Not wishing to be interpreted as patronizing or pleading. He resisted the urge to anxiously clear his throat after speaking again. From the red glow that permeated the bridge oppressively he could not tell if Scales' eyes were boring into him or focused intently at the mountain spire that was artificially represented between them.

"Very good. Our primary effort is to locate that spire and unveil what it contains within," Scales tapped his hooks in a flicker of excitement. "Any word from the platoons?"

"They should arrive within a standard hour, general."

\----

Mari sat in the passenger seat of a jeep, one long leg resting outside the open door. The camp was in high alert. Those capable were watching the perimeter. She had not yet told them all of the notion an army may be bearing down on them soon, panic was not an option. As a sub-supervisor and former military operative she understood the heavy weight of holding the balance of people's lives in her care better than most. Technicians were to be alert for any suspicious frequencies, precautions against a jamming, any snippets of messaging in a language they did not recognize. And most importantly: A message for immediate backup.

Right now she waited at the designated entrance of the camp. With the sun currently setting it turned the camp's entrance into something resembling a gaping maw. A shadowy portal to the unknown where the world was still a mystery. A great truth of space travel was that it re-birthed the disconcerting truth that humanity was not the apex existence in the universe. For all the technology they wielded many refused to set foot in the jungle, not unreasonable considering its dangers; but for all the confidence it distilled in humans when in the confines of metal ships and temporary housing settlements...all that was dashed to pieces in moments of landing upon a new planet. Untouched by pilgrims and settlers alike.

Such fears had existed on earth a long, long time ago. Humanity had not adjusted to it that much better back in those olden times either.

"I'm sure she's fine Mari," her compatriot, Bligh spoke up. Bligh was a heavyset, friendly man. With a head of curly blonde hair and neatly trimmed mustache. He sat in the driver's seat, fingers drumming the black leather of the steering wheel. He was one of the techies of the group but he had insisted in coming along once he'd received word Anya was okay. Skeld's death had also left him saddened and he had clearly wanted to keep his mind occupied in someway.

"I'm sure she is, Bligh," Mari smiled, pushing her red rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. "But given the news it's important people be alert."

"And what is the full extent of this 'news', Mari?" Bligh asked, from the tone of his voice Mari could tell he thought he was being sly in his attempt at wheedling. Mari smiled to herself. He was great with technology. Subtlety with people? Unfortunately such prowess remained out of his reach.

"You'll find out," she replied, giving him a brief smirk. "A spirited attempt though."

Mari's eyes briefly regarded the still progressively darkening sky. Shadows growing long and amorphous in shape and the odd warbling cries of insects beginning their songs filling the empty air. A chorus that predated their arrival by thousands of years and to many was still off-putting in nature. Even more so by the fact they had not seen these insects in person as of yet.

Mari perked up, half leaning out of the door when movement at the entrance caught her eye. Humanoid in stature.

"She's here!" Mari announced into her radio. "Camp entrance. Repeat: Anya and the...," Mari was taken effectively by surprise the fact Anya's companion was an alien vixen. An especially beautiful one at that. Who was now inquisitively surveying her new surroundings, taking in the sight of the buildings that ranged from housing and dining to official work related affairs. Rectangular in shape to allow for quick assembly; to a newcomer they'd all appear to be the exact same as the other barring the lettering emboldened on them that designated them their status.

"Anya and the visitor are here." She finished, hopping out of the jeep.

Mari was a tall woman, just short of an even six feet. Her girlish twin tailed styled hair bounced as she resisted the urge to hug her friend, overjoyed she was safe. But she knew Anya well enough to be aware of the fact touching was likely something she did not want at the present time.

Krystal observed Mari, unable to keep from smiling as she detected her playful nature. It was refreshing in the face of what she and Anya had contended with in the day.

Mari looked at Krystal, seeming to become comfortable with her presence immediately.

"So you're the one who saved Anya?"

"Yes. My name is Krystal, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mari."

"I forgot to mention: She's psychic," Anya spoke, tiredly smirking at Mari curiously arching a brow.

"Well, in this instance I learned that from overhearing your prior conversation," Krystal smiled, an ear flicking in Anya's direction.

"So Anya, not even a whole week on this rock and you've already brought home a telepathic furry space babe? You're insatiable!" Mari teased, unable to pass up the opportunity to have a bit of fun at Anya's expense; twirling one of her brunette tails around her index finger coyly. Smiling a familiar smile of feigned innocence.

Anya felt the tips of her ears burn even hotter than the jungle planet's infernal sun as now, in her eyes, was not the time to be joking about her preferences in light of all that had transpired. Much less in front of an alien visitor who may very well take offense to such an implication, even if only a jest.

Krystal's giggling immediately did away with that last thought. Clearly she enjoyed Mari's flare of humor and Anya suspected her own internally flustered reaction may have very well added to her amused response. Apparently she could be a tease herself. A trait Anya would not have expected from first impressions.

"We have a lot to talk about," Mari said, indicating the largest building in the center, "I'm not sure if you can read that but that's where we hold group meetings."

"I understand," Krystal nodded, the lettering of English still a foreign thing to her but she was able to delicately pull certain words, their spelling and meaning from the thought patterns that surrounded her. However, she did not wish to be too invasive and never probed more than needed. "And yes, we do have much to discuss."

"You said an army was coming?" Mari's demeanor shifted to serious, her position as a supervisor and her prior military experience honing her focus instinctively. It was a reaction that never truly left and in trying times it was invaluable. 

Krystal only nodded. It was never easy telling anyone, in this case an entire budding colony, that the situation had shifted into something dire. But, it was something that had to be done. And intuition told her that Anya, Mari and the whole colony would be instrumental in saving countless lives and that emboldened her.

It was time to go to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the astute, yes the character of Mari in name, appearance and some personality traits is entirely a deliberate reference to Evangelion's Mari Illustrious Makinami. Largely for fun, so I figured why not?


	4. Chapter 4

The auditorium was overall the largest structure of the settlement. Able to house the some two hundred residents and workers. As a tentative settlement group, a precursor to a larger assortment, their number was relatively small. A proper settlement would consist of at least five hundred and advance from there. The seat benches began closest to the speaker's podium and traveled all the way back to the wall.

Krystal stood at the podium, bathed in the center light. A tired Anya stood at her right, Mari at her left. And the blue vixen noted not just the faces of the settlers but could feel their emotions radiating off of them like individual stars. The reactions to her and the news of an impending army provoked a great many responses. Some were confused, others skeptical, even scornful. Many were afraid. She had been initially pleased that no one in the camp seemed hostile towards her because of her extraterrestrial nature; however from some select individuals she felt a distaste towards her choice of clothing upon initial impressions. Since then she had gleamed humans were a rather conservative species in terms of dress. In her home planet and galaxy such reservations were few and far between and Krystal felt comfortable with herself, so much that the reactions had been puzzling for a few moments.

Even hurtful.

She was the last of the Cerinians. Not just in species, but in culture. In the face of so many she kept her head held high with a befitting dignity; allowing the emotions to wash over her understanding and evaporate as water did in the heat of summer. Remaining focused in a sea that was gradually becoming more uncertain.

"Why should we believe any of this?" A woman's voice cracked with barely maintained skepticism. She was an older researcher, a botanist to be precise. Arms folded hostilely across her chest and glasses hanging about her neck.

"I understand you have little reason to believe me," Krystal responded evenly, finding it preferable to gently steer her towards understanding rather than be confrontational. She did understand how far-fetched the claims appeared at a surface level. "But there are indications that something is approaching."

She stood aside momentarily to allow Mari to take center stage.

"We've received no word from what was supposed to be our military protection, nor are we able to get in contact with them," she breathed deeply and brushed a stray brunette lock of hair out of her face. "Skeld, one of our security guards was killed in action."

Mari suppressed a wince at the rising clamor of voices. It'd never been easy to break such news to people. During her days as a member of special operations she'd never really had to contend with such tasks. She was playful, certainly, but she took the lives and safety of those in her charge seriously.

Krystal felt the panic building in the people. To their credit they quieted and held as much as composure as possible when Mari began to verbally ease them. But nevertheless she felt it ebbing off of them in waves. Shock. Fear. The beginnings of realizing what was supposed to be the first stages of a simple colonization job had become something else. An ugly reminder of everyone's life hanging in the balance. They were explorers in the overall sense. Not warriors.

Krystal had naturally always been empathetic and kind. In the wake of the destruction of Cerinia their feelings stung with greater impact. She found the preservation of life to be a precious thing and here she was, standing before so many telling them their lives were at risk. How frighteningly quick everything could change.

"Are you okay?" Anya whispered at her, the noise fading out in their minds to become little more than a droning hum. The tired woman clearly concerned about her and from what she saw of her was ready for sleep more than anything else at the moment.

Krystal smiled, nodding appreciatively. Anya was perceptive and she wondered to herself how aware of her own innate abilities she was. She knew Anya had abilities similar to her, comparatively untrained at the moment; but for one reason or another she noted they had a natural flowing connection. Distinctly sensitive to the sensations of the other.

"Okay, so," a lanky man named Henry spoke up. Grizzled gray stubble and booted feet propped up on an empty spot between two people. "Why would these, uh, reptilians or whatever they are be after us exactly?"

"Their leader, General Scales, is after something," Krystal chose her next words very carefully, "something located on this planet."

"Let me guess," another man and one of the older members of the group, John interjected. His bushy white mustache his most instantaneous discerning physical feature. "Death laser, right?"

"I can't say for certain," she could deduce his question was entirely serious albeit worded rather humorously, earning a few nervous chuckles from several others that fortunately provided some relief. "All I know is that it's crucial that we prevent him from obtaining it."

More murmurs.

"You know I'm not surprised it's reptile aliens of all things," John grunted seemingly to no one in particular. "Chariots of the gods man, they practically own South America," he nodded slowly along with his words as though he had received some profound message from the divine shot directly into his brain.

Krystal gave a bewildered glance at Anya and Mari, an ear flicking curiously in silent hope for some explanation. Mari, in spite of everything couldn't help but giggle at her innocence. A reminder of first contact on both ends of their species; earth humor a bit lost on their alien guest.

"John is our resident conspiracy theorist," Mari explained.

"Says the woman who was literally special ops and claims to have piloted mecha," Anya retorted with a tired smirk.

"Hey I'll have you know I have piloted mecha before," Mari huffed in a play at being dramatically offended, nose in the air.

Krystal watched them in quiet amusement. She was pleased to see, that all possibilities considered, they'd all taken the news fairly well. She knew Mari had already concocted plans as a precaution. Constant cycling of guard duty, setting up traps. In her words "the old fashioned way," whatever that meant. A message had already been dispatched to the military requesting an immediate backup fleet as soon as feasibly possible.

Exhaustion suddenly washed over the vixen in an enormous tidal wave. Relief at accomplishing the first half of her mission, but the daunting task of finishing off Scales and besting his legions still remained. For the time being, she longed for sleep.

\----

The three bulky shuttles touched down in the clearing, grass billowing as the engines powered down. Animals awoke in a fright and dashed off deeper into the jungle, away from their nests. The metallic behemoths a dull bronze, the engine heat searing the ground even as they quieted down.

The backs of the ships hissed open in an eerie mechanical chorus, one after the other. A landing ramp distending and pressing into the scorched ground. With the remnant smoke sizzling from the dead grass the sight of the Sharpclaw emerging from within the vessels, were anyone present to witness it, would have looked unmistakably hellish. With their beady eyes glowing in the light of the twin moons and garbed in armor, muscular and leathery scaled bodies they made for an imposing small army.

All were armed with heavy duty blasters. Angular muzzles and with an additional grip just beneath them for proper handling. They were built to utterly annihilate whatever life form it hit. And they were eager to use them.

They'd touched down several miles from the camp, even further than the first crew had. They had been informed the settlers more than likely already knew they were coming but it was still best to be out of potential radar range. The Sharpclaw smirked and growled amongst each other, thinking themselves clever. Others remained quiet and took the time to inspect their weapons.

The captain gestured a three-fingered hand to the left. Time to move out. They marched and despite their burly sizes and armor were capable of moving with a predatory silence few on their home planet could match. Their clawed feet were ideal for stealthily making their way through grassy and jungle terrains. Compared to humans they had little to fear from the wildlife. With their numbers and weapons few predators, however desperate, wouldn't risk it unless they truly had a death wish.

They anticipated the conflict greatly. It had been a long journey through the womb of space with the promises of final victory dangling over their heads like a piece of tantalizing meat. And it was time to tear that victory from their enemies.

\----

Krystal exhaled in a deep relief as she basked in the warm water of the shower, easing her muscles and cleansing her mind. Brushing locks of her blue hair from her face as she turned her face up to the gleaming shower head and closing her eyes she allowed the droplets to soak her face. The rapid flowing beads of water glinting in the light of the bathroom, twinkling like tiny stars. Running down her lithe body and dripping from the tips of her fingers. Refreshing and rejuvenating from the intense jungle heat and the scrutiny of the people. Shimmying her tail she splashed the wall to her left in thought.

There was still more information to give but she had decided to give it only to the higher ups. And Anya, when the time came. And she felt intuitively that time would be soon, very soon. She had felt the presence enter Anya's dreams when they were sleeping in the cave, attempting to commune with her. An all too familiar presence. Benevolent in nature but very urgent. But trying to explain the spiritual alongside an invading army of dinosaurs would be pushing it to most. Humans as a majority didn't seem to possess much awareness of such things, either from disbelief or a deep rooted apathy.

Delicately her hand found the panel on the wall before her to switch off the water. A click, and it stopped.

A fresh change of clothes waited for her on the counter top. She smiled to herself as Anya had been kind enough to lend her some, even allowing her to cut a neat little hole in the back of the pants for her tail to fit through. Taking the towel off the rack she began to dry herself off, showering and or bathing always had a way of putting her at ease.

Outside the bathroom, Anya sat on the bed. Freshly clean herself she finished brushing her long hair, reaching past her shoulders and shimmering under the dim lighting. She wore a pair of black shorts and a small top that cutoff just over her belly. She enjoyed the coolness of the room on her bare skin and she was thankful she wasn't sunburned. Her skin was naturally very pale. Krystal's staff and jewelry lay on the small table alongside the quietly humming mini fridge. She could not help but eye the staff out of curiosity. She could tell many of the other settlers didn't think much of it and it had irked her how some of them had first reacted to Krystal herself. One had even begun trying to speak to her slowly, like a child until she had patiently corrected them. She recalled admiring Krystal's polite, but definitively firm assurance of her intelligence.

Standing from the bed she cautiously made her way over to the weapon, pausing once in silent debate as to whether to touch it or not. Her feet near silent, she padded across the floor as she opted to risk it anyway. Slowly she extended the index finger of her right hand, touching the space just beneath the spear-like head. Brushing the runic engravings with her finger delicately; the metal was cool to the touch and clearly the work of an expert craftsman and she breathed out slowly in a sense of amazement. Withdrawing the appendage she suddenly fretted as to whether her touch might activate it somehow and took a step back.

"It responds to the psionic energies of the wielder, you don't need to worry," Krystal spoke from the doorway of the bathroom. Anya jolted, her hair swinging over her shoulder as she turned to face Krystal. Embarrassed at having been caught in the act she looked to the floor momentarily, her toes clenched the cold metal. Harsher in temperature compared to the staff.

"There's no need to feel embarrassed Anya," Krystal soothed with a smile. She wore a dark gray tank top and matching satin pants, having neatly tied the pant strings into a bow. Only slightly shorter than Anya her clothes more or less fit her very well. Her tail swished lightly as she walked over, still smiling. "It's only natural you'd be curious."

Anya laughed quietly; stretching her arms over her head as the temporary energy provided by her brief surprise quickly wore off. Her belly piercing glinted in the easy light.

"Psionic energy? So it only responds to you?"

"Somewhat. Weapons constructed of orichalcum are designed specifically to react to such energies as it makes it more effective in the hands of its wielder. And it acts as a safety function since most wouldn't think of such thing, and even then it'd be difficult to force a response. The longer a weapon of that sort is used by one individual the more it resonates extensively with them."

Anya's sense of wonderment increased and she looked at Krystal in unabashed amazement. A weapon that was a perfect blending of mysticism and science and harmonized with its user. Humans weren't even close to such an achievement yet, nor did they seem to believe such a concept was possible. The focus humans had exclusively on the physical, the material, was such an infuriating thing in Anya's views. It wasn't that she believed that science and technology was evil in and of itself, but the sad truth was that the way the human race devoted itself to them seemed to have cost them esoteric understanding. A loss of soul. There was a whole other universe that existed alongside them that went acknowledged. Unseen and ubiquitous. Even traveling the stars had done little to open people's minds. Disturbingly it seemed to close it further. The more people encountered what was once thought of as impossible the more feverishly they clung to the idea of impossibility.

"That's incredible Krystal," Anya replied at last with a tired but sincere smile she rarely gave, wishing she could continue the conversation but sleep begged for her attention. There was only one bed but Krystal hadn't batted an eye at the idea of sharing, to herself Anya admitted that being in the company of one so comfortable with herself was abundantly refreshing. And sparing them a potentially awkward conversation.

The vixen chuckled at Anya's attempts at suppressing her exhaustion, though really she wasn't much better as her chuckling led into an adorable, quiet yawn.

"You can take the spot closest to the wall if you want," Anya offered.

"Do I seem that clumsy?" Krystal teased, laughing as Anya's mouth hung open for several moments as her lethargic mind tried in vain to muster a retort that could be classified as witty.

"Go ahead and take your usual spot Anya. It's been a long, eventful day."

\----

The Titanosaurus was an unusual ship in regards to how it functioned. It did not run on any traditionally quantifiable energy source such as fossil fuels, water or even solar power.

It was powered by a spirit. An unwilling spirit, but a spirit all the same.

Standing in the engine room, Scales admired the blasphemous prison he had constructed for that very purpose. In appearance it resembled a pristine boiler. Massive, with dozens of tubes and pipes connecting to the walls and ceiling. But it was clearly more than that. Engraved with sinister black symbols, patterns that would appear meaningless to most non-Saurians. The pipes and tubes glowed, some flashing and pulsating like a beating heart. The room bathed in a contrast of harsh artificial light and the ethereal purple glow of the prison itself.

The symbols were ones that had not been utilized by any living being in centuries, perhaps even longer. They were the symbols of the Krazoa both reversed and inverted.

Long ago, before Saurians had risen to become the dominant species of their planet it had once been the home of the ancient people known only as the Krazoa. The eldest among them, the founders, had long since ascended to become sacred spirits even when the civilization had been at its peak. They were masters of the mystic arts, or science, medicine and building. But as with countless great civilizations their eventual march into a reckless, thoughtless arrogance brought about their downfall. Meddling with gravitational forces had pulled Sauria's moon into the planet. Were it not for the intervention of the Krazoa spirits the Saurians, even Scales himself, would have been condemned to simply be members of a dying planet and rotting ecosystem.

The spirits taught Saurians how to build, passing on the best of themselves to the next budding civilization after them.

But if the best exists, so must the worst. It'd taken him years to dig up as much information as he could, knowledge few were aware of and even fewer cared to know at all. The technology and magics required to harness a Krazoa spirit to his will. And the dark symbology and rituals needed to complete it. Information on how to accomplish such a task was sparse, whether destroyed during the cataclysm or afterwards he did not know. His ideas were so heretical in nature that those who discovered his ambitions in the earliest days had dismissed it as the fantasies of a lunatic.

Scales found it to be a cosmic irony. Like the Krazoa before them the Saurian society had eroded. But rather than grow arrogant they were apathetic. Content with status quo. In his eyes it was sickening. Apathy was even worse than arrogance.

He often came down to the engine room in his private moments. Admiring his achievements and even marveling at the sheer power just one Krazoa spirit possessed. The spirit alone powered the engine, every life support system, the shielding, the cannons.

Knowledge, Scales found, was like every other conquest. Meant to be forced into submission before him. And it had been a highly bountiful conquest.

 **"I...will not...serve...,"** the deep voice of the spirit rasped weakly. Whether it spoke to him telepathically or spoke from its inescapable prison Scales was uncertain. None of his men had ever reported the spirit speaking to them as it did to him. Or, if it did they chose not to inform him. Perhaps frightened by it or dismissing it as some other noise that only sounded like words. Regardless, it could only conjure words. And even then that was just barely.

"I would think it would be quite clear that you have no say in this matter, spirit," Scales sneered. Reflexively rearing from a relaxed posture to his full, gargantuan height.

**"She will...stop...you."**

General Scales rumbled in the back of his throat at the mere mention of Krystal. The one who most consistently defied him. It was an obscenity to him. Here he stood, a great spirit bent to his whim yet a living flesh and blood woman stood against him. Alive. And more successful than he would ever care to admit to anyone, especially himself.

"That remains to be seen," he turned away and heavy footfalls announced his presence moving towards the doors. Even over the whooshing hiss of the doors opening a final sentence stabbed into his mind in mockery.

**"Your arrogance will be your death."**


	5. Chapter 5

Krystal stirred from her sleep slowly. The subtle shift of her tail beneath the blanket, the rustle of a leg against sheets. Her blue eyes opened to the comforting dark of the bedroom and for that brief moment she had to process where she was, and all that had transpired the past several hours. Quietly she raised her upper body from the bed, looking about. Memory flooding back faster than a blink.

Anya did not have much in the way of personalization in regards to her room. She could deduce it was because Anya acknowledged this colony as just a job, not a proper home. The woman slept beside her, burgundy hair spilled across the fabric of the pillow and facing the wall. Sleeping soundly.

Krystal's feet touched the cool floor, the blanket slipping from her right shoulder. She eyed the fridge, feeling hunger quickly beginning to rise in her belly. Before they fell asleep Anya had told her if she got hungry or thirsty she could help herself.

Padding her way over she stooped to its level and opened the small the door, a rush of cold air on her lovely, furred visage. A sweet aroma reached her nose and instinctively she reached for a round fruit. Its skin chilled from the temperature she held it in her hands curiously, turning it over and weighing it in her grasp. From the recesses of Anya's mind it was, apparently, an orange. The color being named after the fruit itself. She smiled to herself at how blunt human naming systems appeared to be at times. Honestly she found it charming.

Carefully with her thumb nail she began to peel the outer layer of skin away, the scent growing more poignant. The process reminding her of dumbledang pods on Sauria, a delectable fruit found only on that planet. Though the orange smelled much sweeter. The edible fruit itself much more ripe and vibrant.

Plucking a piece from the main body she popped it into her mouth. Her tail fluffed out and her ears twitched enthusiastically at the sweet taste as she chewed.

Temporarily unbeknownst to her, Anya watched. Knuckle raised to her smiling lips as she stifled a giggle to the best of her ability. It was endearingly wholesome seeing Krystal experiencing a little piece of earth for the first time in a true capacity. For now bloodshed and violence were at the back of their minds, in its place was innocence and the discovery of the new. Krystal clearly enjoyed trying new things.

Happily, Krystal took the next bite quickly, and the next after that until it was gone.

 _"That was delicious! I hope she'll let me have another in the future,"_ she thought to herself, grateful for Anya's kindness.

"There's a trashcan in the corner, by the way," Anya spoke up from the bed, unable to suppress her amusement at Krystal's startled jolt. Both of them laughed together, a happy experience of bonding neither had taken part in in quite some time.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Krystal said as she tossed the peeled skin of the fruit into the small, dull gray trashcan.

"No. Besides," Anya eased herself up. Testing her muscles and steadily working the stiffness out of them. "I needed to wake up anyway."

Swinging her legs out of bed she felt her skin tingle from quick contact with the air, while far from freezing it was still much colder in contrast to the warmth of the bed. Her hair light disheveled and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her body ached as expected but it wasn't anything she could not handle. She had slept easily too, in spite of all that had happened. Or perhaps because of it.

"How long were we out?"

"About ten hours."

"Shit, really?"

Krystal smile reassuringly, crossing the distance and easing Anya back down gently with a hand.

"You needn't worry. Mari has been leading preparations for quite some time," she brushed a few stray locks out of Anya's face, stroking them into place. "You shouldn't try to take so much onto yourself."

Anya only smiled faintly. It was one of those rare moments where she genuinely believed in the affirmations of companionship from another and suddenly she felt like sleeping again. A weight lifted from her shoulders producing a relief she longed for.

Krystal withdrew her hand slowly, happy to sense that Anya didn't feel as though some barrier had been unnecessarily crossed. Emotionally and physically. She knew humans had a differing sense of personal space whereas gestures of affection, friendship and otherwise, among her culture was not unusual. It was something she missed terribly.

Flopping back down on the bed Anya stared up at the immaculate ceiling, a distorted red haired reflection peering back at her. A figure in a foggy mirror. Features unseen and distant. The sheets bunched up about her frame from the impact of her body, her hair splayed out like tendrils of deep fire.

"Mari said she'll have Bligh whip up some clothing for you too," Anya said at last, looking over at the vixen, who now sat on the adjacent table. Legs dangling over the floor. Her feet were a distinctive mixture of human and animal characteristics; and interestingly only possessed three, white-furred toes on each. Krystal lightly smiled. She would always cherish her Cerinian clothing and was grateful to Anya for allowing her to safely store it in a suitcase beneath the bed; but for the time being accommodating the humans in terms of dress would likely be for the best.

And, perhaps, a change would do some good.

\----

Mari leaned her head back over the rim of the chair's headrest, pushing with a foot to send herself slowly rotating. The metal squeaked as a minute punctuation of her boredom. Waiting for communication light years away was never much fun in her opinion. Her fingers tapped absently on the armrests.

"Sub-supervisor Mari, do you copy?" A familiar, female voice barked authoratively to life over the communicator.

Mari practically dove across the desk to mash the receive button, a single click and communication became a two way. Her glasses nearly leaving her pretty face as a result.

"Hi there, Highness! No need to be so formal around me, remember?" She teased, scooting her chair closer to the desk.

The communications desk resembled something from an older time in regards to its technological setup. By modern comparisons many would summarize it as "cluttered." Wires connecting to numerous outlets, over a dozen brightly hued buttons. A huge, gaping microphone to speak into and hear from. The device was an ugly color too, a sickly lime green. Aesthetically a complete eyesore. But Mari was not fussy about such things. It worked, and regardless of the space it took up and its unappealing coloration that was all that mattered. And, due to being an older model it was difficult to track transmissions. Few, human or otherwise, expected an older model of communication to be utilized. It was one of Mari's numerous little tricks and subtle ways of potentially getting ahead. She'd ordered the main communications crew to only use the transmission devices unless absolutely necessary.

An exasperated sigh over the line.

"How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?"

"Three hundred and-,"

"That was rhetorical, four eyed crony."

"Gotcha," Mari cooed, resting her chin on her neatly steepled fingers. She always had fun talking to the captain. Her abrasiveness and temper was part of the charm, she found. 

"The backup fleet should be there in about two days, your colony is officially a top priority protection and evacuation scenario. Just try to hold out until then."

Despite her brisk speaking, she could tell the other woman was invested in their protection. Even if her demeanor wouldn't overtly convey such feelings.

"The stronger firearms we have on hand should help us out too. By the way, did you-,"

"Yes. It's being shipped with the fleet. You owe me big for that, by the way."

Mari had often made good use of her military connections to give her colony a slight edge in potential combative situations. Several automatic weapons stashed away, some explosives and strong body armor. If employed tactically they could prove pivotal in turning the tables. And Mari had asked for another, specialized weapon from her covert ops days.

"Thanks, Highness. Didn't think you had it in ya to pull that one off!" If they were speaking in person at the moment, she would have winked.

The captain snorted, not taking the bait.

"Stay safe out there, four eyes."

Another push of a button and communication ceased. Sighing in relief Mari leaned back in her seat, creaking as she rocked herself back and forth at a pensive pace. Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Right now their efforts were focused on survival. She had no doubt there would be causalities in the coming skirmish. She'd taken as many precautions as she possibly could to maximize survival chances but it did not alter the fact they were to clash with a trained army.

And who was to say this General Scales wouldn't just obliterate them from orbit when he learned of their victory? From Krystal's description of him he seemed monomaniacally fixated on obtaining whatever he was after first and foremost, but he wasn't stupid. He was likely scared of Krystal and with good reason as evidently no one but her had lived long enough to oppose him frequently enough.

 _"I get the feeling that after this he'll be adding a lot of names to that list,"_ Mari thought, rising to her feet.

\----

Anya sat on the lip of a work table, fingers drumming the rim expectantly. Bligh sat in his work chair, hands resting on his chest and feet propped up. He was quite unmistakably proud of himself.

It was still dark outside. Night on the planet lasted about as long as the day did, in standard time. Anya had always preferred the dark. It was far more comforting than the harsh exposure brought about by the light of day. The sun's scathing heat like a judgmental eye.

"How goes it?" Mari called from the doorway, her feet clinking on the metal floor.

Bligh was in charge of clothing. From simple repairs to damaged articles to creating protective gear should it be necessary. The blonde man had always taken pride in his work and he was positively glowing at the present time. By his own admission he wasn't much good at many things in life and he always jumped at the chance to demonstrate the one thing he took absolute pride in.

"She's trying it on now," he replied, still beaming.

The door to one of the many changing rooms opened and out she stepped. Wearing a blue body suit with black markings along the arms, midsection and legs. The boot heels clicked as she gracefully posed before a mirror. It fit snugly to her body like a second skin she'd been flawlessly poured into.

"It's made of experimental material, it ain't just leather by the way," he grinned over at the two ladies next to him. "Special pores in the material itself should regulate both body and external temperatures for as much comfortability as possible. And it's heat and knife resistant too," his chin raised and he stroked the right half of his mustache.

Krystal inspected herself. Despite the form fitting appearance she found it quite comfortable and she certainly didn't mind being the first of the group to wear such material. It was different from what she had worn previously but she did not feel the change was unwelcome. Her reflection in the full body mirror blinked with her and her lips turned upward in a little smile.

"I very much like it Bligh. Thank you for taking the time to make it for me," she nodded deeply towards him, her hair swaying elegantly.

"Soooo Anya, what do you think?" Mari gently elbowed her in the ribs.

"I like it. I like it a lot," Anya worded her praise carefully. She was a cautious sort when it came to giving compliments. There was no denying Krystal looked stunning in her new clothing and even though Bligh had detailed the practical aspects of it alongside the aesthetics...color and form alike it complimented her natural beauty.

"Though that does beg the question about why you never saw fit to test temperature adjusting clothing on us," Anya shot him a facetious but inquisitive glower.

"You didn't ask," he held out his open hands with nonchalance, eyes twinkling in good spirited humor.

Krystal's tail twitched and her expression grew serious. Her face turned to the ceiling and looking about.

"What is it? Sharpclaw?" Anya stood to her full height, any and all humor evaporating.

"Yes. They're getting close."

Mari readied her communicator, the order for everyone to take their positions a button push away.

"Can you tell how many there are?"

Krystal shook her head. "Not as of yet but from the level of thought patterns I'm detecting I'd estimate close to...sixty."

"Shit," was all Bligh could contribute to the conversation; eyes now distant in the harsh realization he could potentially die on this very night crashing back down upon him with the unforgiving pressure of a tidal wave.

"Give the order Mari, everyone needs to be ready."

Krystal turned her eyes to Anya, reaching out with her mind to mix with hers in vocally silent communication.

**"Are you ready, Anya?"**

**"As I'll ever be,"** she replied evenly. Her right hand massaging her temple as she was not yet entirely accustomed to the sensation of a voice that was not hers speaking directly into the pool of her mind. Krystal was touched Anya's mind was so open to her and that speaking with their mental voices was largely effortless. 

**"Stay close to me if you can. I trust you more than anyone else here,"** Krystal murmured telepathically. Anya only nodded, a smile touching her lips.

_"I won't let anything happen to you Krystal."_

From the caring smile on the vixen's face, Anya knew she had heard that.

**"I won't let anything happen to you either, Anya."**

\----

The Sharpclaw captain's eyes glittered in the twin moonlight that sliced between the treetops like eyes peering from an abyssal cave. He ordered the group to fan out. They may be facing colonists but it would be idiotic to think they would not be prepared even slightly for their arrival.

With their keen eyes and noses they could easily find their way through the dark. Leaves and bushes rustled as though stirred by a faint but sudden wind as they split into four groups. One to take the entrance, two to take the left and the right, and a final group to attack the rear.

Thinking to himself, the captain inspected the higher branches of the trees and was pleased to find they were quite sturdy in appearance. He'd station some men in the trees as well.

Detaching a communicator from his dark green belt he activated it. The red glow of the projection of Scales' nightmarish face illuminated the jungle night. Distorted reptilian shadows splashed across the trees in broken pieces and cast across the jungle floor in vaguely shaped caricatured blobs.

"General, we're approaching this settlement group now," he spoke in Saurian freely. Unconcerned as to whether anyone heard at this point as from what their monitoring had informed them humans did not speak their language.

"Good. Ensure not a single one survives."

"Understood, general."

"We should be descending over the mountains to fully scan the spire and brace for extraction. Report to me immediately once your mission is accomplished."

From the bridge Scales did not fret much over whether they succeeded. His only true worry was Krystal, the rest were beneath his notice as far as he was concerned. And even then she would not be enough to delay his plans. He surveyed the planet below, like an ethereal marble with its deep colors and thick haze of humid clouds. Beneath the Titanosaurus it appeared almost delicate.

Once he obtained the weapon planets and stars alike would be delicate. Perhaps, if he could push it far enough, the very fabric of the supposed reality would be too.


	6. Chapter 6

From an all seeing perspective the settlement was as a ghost town. Not a single living being in sight. The twin moons bathing it in white, a blue haze hung over the trees and the far distant mountains. Frozen in time as a pair of eyes glinted in the shadows of the settlement's entrance. Followed by another pair, that pair becoming six, then fifteen. The ghoulish yellow eyes of fiends who's minds thrummed with a murderous timber.

The first group slowly broke through the darkness, moonlight glinted off their armor and weapons. Silent and eager to kill. They inspected the open space, eyes passing over buildings and windows in malicious curiosity that there were none in sight. Their noses told them either they lay in hiding or had fled very recently due to the ripeness of organic scents. Scent was one of the most ancient ways of detection and smell alone could speak volumes where words could not.

A variety of them mixed in the air. Anger. Fear. Beneath it swam a smell of banality and sweat, the toils of a day's work on a planet light years from where they had been born.

A moments pause and the captain gestured for them to move deeper into the settlement but not to separate. The others would move in shortly and there was no need. They understood that enough of these humans could take them down with ease if they made a mistake.

Three-toed footprints marked the ground as they walked among the imprints of tire treads. Fresh ones.

To their right, atop a small hill, one man worked feverishly. They couldn't afford to lose too much transportation but Mari found the idea too good to pass up. Wait until the first group was distracted before sending them their "present." He'd been given a remote detonation charge, the bomb itself sat neatly in the driver's seat. Small and nondescript. A gray, pill shaped bomb that was barely larger than his hand. All he had to do was give the jeep a push down the hill and let gravity do the rest. Once it was close enough one push of a button would finish the job. For the time being he hid behind it; barely peeking around with one eye to watch the Sharpclaw's slow advancement.

The silence that stabbed the atmosphere in the face of a battle was almost more than his nerves could take.

Elsewhere, Krystal hid with Anya and a small assortment of other colonists behind a cluster of stacked crates. Her staff attached to her hip and in her grip she held an ARK-201. The latest in high military grade automatic firearms. Pitch black in color, sleek. The narrow, twin muzzles separated by a few millimetres. The magazine locked into it held, on average, enough fuel for a thousand rounds. Upgrading to laser technology had come with many perks. They had built two muzzles as they had found that dividing the round dispersion reduced the risk of overheating the metal. The magazines held within them the fuel that would be converted into laser fire. Humans had yet to master the way of creating weaponry that was all but self sustaining, but had crafted deadly instruments of death all the same.

Her ears swiveled on alert for any sound that was out of place in the realm of a jungle. Reaching out with her mind's eye she could feel their emotions, thought patterns alive with the desire to kill. It pulsated in the air obscenely with the persistence of a beating heart.

 **"Can you feel them, Anya?"** She whispered telepathically, briefly touching the woman's wrist with her hand. Her swished delicately over the ground.

Anya only nodded. Her hair, bound up in neat ponytail, bounced with the movement. Her own heart pounding so hard she could swear it could be seen even through her bone and skin.

 **"What do you see?"** She continued touching her mind.

Anya thought carefully, her palms clammy in contrast to the metal of the gun. Her shotgun over her shoulder she had offered little resistance when Mari had given her one of the few, genuine automatics. They'd long since been banned for civilian use but Mari had assured her that in all consideration they were easy to use. Just point and open fire.

Trees and beady yellow eyes appeared in her mind like the flash of camera. So clear as though she physically stood before them.

**"They're in the trees too!"**

Krystal nodded.

Moments later, an explosion tore through the silence. A violent exclamation of fire and metal. Leaves burned away and bellows of merciless agony erupted from the surviving Sharpclaw. Those closest were dead, those at its epicenter were blasted to pieces. Hunks of flesh and limb and gore decorated the surrounding trees and grass. Meat, raw and singed, glistened in the light in a twisted display. Others were maimed by shrapnel, half blinded and nearly deaf.

Lacking the advanced proximity censor mines they had been constructed as they had been centuries ago. Bombs activated by trip wire. And camouflaged thoroughly.

Another fireball jettison skywards, tendrils of flame clawing at the celestial bodies and smoke roiling as the jeep exploded. A simple shove down the hill and the push of a button and already the number of the first group had been whittled down considerably.

Then the shooting started.

The Sharpclaw captain vengefully shot the man who had detonated the jeep, still in a daze over what he had done. A ball of fiery orange plasma struck him in the chest and he was lifted off his feet. Spread out on the ground as dead as the Sharpclaw that had been unable to distance themselves in time.

Doors to the facilities adjacent to them sprung open, banging and clattering off the walls as laser fire was born in their wake.

Blue and orange cast shadows in a neurotic display of death as both sizes fought with fierce abandon. Though the Sharpclaw had been caught off guard they were still trained soldiers. The captain blasted out the windows while his surviving compatriots, five in number, dropped to one knee and retaliated.

One colonist howled in guttural pain as a shot took off his right arm at the elbow. A second to his sternum put him out of his misery.

"Everybody be warned," Mari's voice crackled over the communications line, "they are in the trees! I repeat they are in the trees!"

Balls of hellish plasma pelted the settlement ground. Annihilating windows and scorching the walls, picking off scurrying colonists as they charged for new cover. Krystal's warning to Mari had come in time and that would minimize casualties.

Another mine was tripped, illuminating the Sharpclaw that hid in the foliage. They snarled and jeered in their alien tongue as they continued firing. Anya could feel the ARK-201 rattling away in her hands as she fired away at the charging saurians. Its power reverberating in her bones. They dropped quickly as the lasers tore into powerful frames. Two darted to the side, allowing their tree dwelling brethren to take forefront. Anya gasped as a shot nearly struck her arm, the heat licked hungrily at her skin and she ducked behind the marred crates with a suppressed cry of shock.

Unharmed. But the knowledge that she had been in a hairsbreadth of a devastating injury pierced into her like a cold needle. Her heart beat so fast she wonder if it'd simply give out.

Krystal shot the two attempting to flank them dead and swiftly blasted away into the trees like a turret. A Sharpclaw roared, clutching his arm as the vixen ducked back down. Plasma fire repeatedly pelted the crates, the metal withering and melting gradually. Sluggishly oozing globs of lava orange and touching the floor, searing it as a brand does to flesh.

"Bastards!" A colonist yelled over the clamor, springing back into a standing position and firing wildly into the trees. Lasers shredding the leaves and ripping apart hunks of bark. Before Krystal could warn him a counter shot took his life. Her lips clenched together grimly. The loss of innocent life was important to her and it stung at her to see someone who had never asked to be in this situation die.

Her hand, once extended towards him in warning now gripped her staff.

"Cover me."

Anya nodded, seizing her courage back.

"Cover her!" She relayed Krystal's order loudly.

A surge of energy from the staff's bottom launched the vixen into the air. She spun in a graceful flip, over the scorching blasts and landing neatly in the open. Without hesitation she sprinted towards the trees, giving over to instinct she weaved and practically danced aside any shot that came too close for her liking. Her tail trailing behind like a flag. Two Sharpclaw dropped from their perches as the colonist's shots struck true; bodies snapping through branches and landing limply on the jungle floor.

Energy coiled from the tip of her staff and traversed down its length as a decisive jump carried her into the air.

Slamming its bottom to the ground a wave of energy erupted out with her at its epicenter. The ground trembled with an unexpected wrath and shook the saurians from their hiding spots. Five landed roughly, grunting and wheezing as air was forced from their bodies. Krystal struck quickly. Piercing hearts and skulls with rapid thrusts, ending their lives quickly. She detested wanton cruelty in the name of a personal vendetta and refused to stoop to it. She regarded them solemnly; her staff glistening with blood and the storm of emotions and thoughts still hung over the settlement in a harsh miasma.

\----

The captain snarled as laser fire kept himself and his surviving men pinned. Sparks spitting from the pock marked metal. The colonists were getting closer, bolder and bolder they crept. But he did not despair nor let rage cloud his judgement. The final group had yet to arrive. Deducing that it was best to go around the traps than risk going straight through and by his own estimation they'd be here shortly. They'd taken cover inside one of the smaller buildings, one of the housing units. The doors riddled with smoldering laser holes and windows shattered, glassy fangs gesturing inwards and jaggedly capturing the light of gun fire within them nebulously.

The captain stuck his blaster muzzle out and returned fire, satisfied to see one woman collapse and absent her head. A second shot earned a screech of pain as it burned past a woman's side. The woman flopped to the ground, yowling and clutching at herself. Muscles and tendons in neck bulging from the force of her screaming. Her clothes burning and fusing to her skin.

From a rooftop vantage point, Mari and a small assortment of other settlers fired into the battle scarred building furiously trying to pick the Sharpclaw off.

"There's more coming!" A man cried, prodding at Mari's side and gesturing with his binoculars at the settlement entrance. They weren't hard to spot without them. They scurried in, roaring and laughing at finally be able to join their brothers in combat. Wisely they had chosen to go through one of the most battle marked areas of the site. The ground smoking and littered with bodies and parts of bodies. They greeted those who turned towards them with rapid fire from their guns. Those who stood to meet them fell with alarming swiftness. One Sharpclaw bludgeoned a man across the back of his skull with his rifle. The glint of blood almost as bright as the one in his sadistic, beady eyes.

"Group two take cover! I repeat group two take cover immediately you have hostiles converging on your right!" Mari ordered quickly, lips close to her communicator.

The Sharpclaw fearlessly burst out from their hiding spot as chaos consumed the ground. Mari and her own group fired into the approaching small swarm of hostiles but frustratingly found that it did little to aid the panicked and scrambling colonists below them as they were picked off like stragglers. A man hoisted the injured and now semiconscious woman onto his shoulders and bolted with the handful of survivors for the auditorium. Another flopped forward, a fiery orb tearing into his unprotected back. Mari glared and in turn snuffed out the Sharpclaw who had killed him with a well placed burst of laser fire that riddled his body with smoking holes that even his armor and thick hide could not resist. The groups rounded a corner and vanished from easy view.

"Group four we need you over at the auditorium to assist group two!" Mari hurriedly spoke into the radio, gesturing for the others to keep a lookout and finish off any surviving Sharpclaw wherever possible.

"Already on it," Krystal's voice crackled back at Mari reassuringly.

"Hurry, they don't have much time."

\----

The doors to the auditorium only closed just in time to block the saurian onslaught. Though three men slammed them shut simultaneously the Sharpclaw soldier bashing shoulder first into it was nearly enough to knock both them off their feet and the doors wide open. The doors had been built to keep potential wild animals out but even after locking them it did nothing to dissuade the feeling of being cornered. Again the doors jostled, rattling and muffled angry snarls on the other side. A voice speaking in a language they couldn't understand.

Moonlight illuminating through the windows one woman shakily ordered two men armed with rifles to cover the back entrance and barricade it if necessary.

More than one yelped in terror as the first of them shot through the windows; the hellish flash lighting up the predatory visage of the Sharpclaw as he raised his smoking gun deeper into the fresh opening.

Acting on pure instinct one man shot with his rifle pelting the overeager attacker in his throat. There was nary a reaction from the dinosaur aside from twisting over onto his side, clutching his irreparably annihilated throat.

More lasers tore through the windows, littering the floor with twinkling glass. Muzzle flashes and screams.

The captain fired directly on the door, glowering as the metal slowly began melting. Evidently the doors were built with multiple precautions in mind.

Bearing around the corner Krystal led the charge.

"Three of you go around back, they're trying to get in!" She ordered, nodding as Anya and two other men broke off from the group. It hurt her to think of losing her friend. The first she'd really made in a long time.

Raising her ARK-201 she sprayed lasers into the pack of Sharpclaw. Other colonists fired with rifles and pistols. At the rate they had attacked more than a dozen had already been killed or were wounded to the point of dying within moments. Krystal could sense the dark green reptilian was the leader and she quickly turned her gun on him. However he was faster on the draw than she had anticipated and were it not for her throwing herself to the ground his shot would have found purchase.

Aiming up at him she fired back, his muscular body convulsing as the light blue laser bolts ripped into his upper body. He landed loudly on his back, hissing and gurgling.

From around back Anya and the two men accompanying her had easily caught the Sharpclaw soldiers off guard. Without mercy she had shot one in the spine and the other as he was half turned. The third was sent to oblivion by tandem shotgun rounds to his sternum. He hit the wall and slumped to the floor. One hand still futilely clutching his gun, the other uselessly resting at his side. Palm turned upwards and clawed fingers crooked as if gripping something unseen.

"You guys check on everyone inside okay?" Anya breathed out, noting through all the frantic energy that the sound of gun fire was beginning to dwindle.

They nodded numbly and cautiously ventured in.

"Status?" Mari inquired over radio. Her voice so unexpected Anya almost jumped in place.

"We took care of them. How are things on your end?" Anya's voice was dry and it occurred to her how much she craved water.

"Picking off the stragglers now, keeping an eye on the trees just in case."

Anya sighed. Even in spite of her energy she wanted to sleep again.

\----

Krystal stood over the dying captain, keeping her gun trained on him as he spoke up at her. Verbal interrogation wasn't truly necessary as she was probing his mind quite literally as he spoke. His mind an open book tinged with the surreal pang of his physical functions fading slowly. She saw the hull of a colossal ship that was unmistakably the Titanosaurus and a fleet. These were things she already knew.

Scales knew she was here and he knew of the colonists. She could see the perception of the general in the captain's mind. A flurry of commands bleeding into a distorted voice that echoed in her head like a shout in a deep cave of Stygian dark.

He knew nothing substantial. He was a pawn to Scales, not a confidant. He sneered up at her spitefully and wheezed insults in Saurian.

Krystal only sighed as Anya emerged from around the corner, her right cheek having a splotch of soot. The vixen smiled at her momentarily. They had won the battle. Though, she dreaded the thought of knowing how many were lost. 

"Has scaly here said anything?" Anya pointed to him as he took his last breath, rattling in his throat and glassy eyes shutting.

"No. Nor was I able to gleam anything from his mind."

The doors to the auditorium at last opened and Krystal frowned sadly at the sight of the injured woman, the botanist. She clung to her life and her expression was vacant as she was whisked past her to receive desperately needed medical care.

"Are you okay Krystal?" Anya murmured, slinging her shotgun over her shoulder and rubbing at her face.

"Mm," she nodded. "Physically, yes. I'm feeling uneasy, we're not out of this yet."

"Yeah. I figured."

Smoke wafted into the sky and in spite of the brazen moons the night appeared darker. The shadowy mountain spires raising like claws in the vast distance. Krystal regarded them keenly, intuition whispering to her. The mountains of this planet carried an aura of the foreboding and it reminded her of the mountains of Cerinia. Places of great mystical power and history. Beautiful in their towering majesty. The mountains she looked upon now seemed a twisted perversion of them. Holding within their womb a dark secret meant to be lost in a veil beyond even the farthest reaches of linear time.

"What should we do now?" Anya asked, legs suddenly feeling achingly weary.

"You can rest somewhere, if you would like," Krystal replied warmly, "I'll check around with the other colonists. I don't sense any malicious presences close by right now, but it is best to be safe."

The woman nodded and slowly peeled off in the direction ahead of her. Turning back once to see Krystal affectionately gesture with an elegant hand to go on.

Krystal gazed up at the sky. Filled with stars generating ancient light, a light breeze carried the putrid scent of death and fire. Steadying her breathing and closing her eyes meditatively she allowed her feelings to flow through her and ebb out and away like a strand of hair carried away by the wind. She had faced death more times than she had cared to. But in the face of evil, true evil, she could bear it. It was a calling she could not deny.

Opening her eyes she faced the world once more knowing it was only just beginning.


	7. Chapter 7

Wisps of smoke hung in the air, twisting and coiling about itself with a lazy mindlessness. The ground marked and scorched from dozens of laser blasts and craters blasted into it from the detonations of explosives. A thorough inspection of the settlement had turned up no surviving Sharpclaw, much to everyone’s shared relief. The wounded were taken to the medical center. The amount of severe injuries was fewer in number than had been expected as overall they totaled to about fifteen. Deaths amounted anywhere from thirty five to forty. Less than anticipated but an undoubted loss of life for colonists who never would have imagined they would be sucked into a conflict of this magnitude. 

Krystal sat in one of the chair’s in Mari’s office, a cup of cool water clasped in her blue-furred hands. She raised it to her lips and lightly sipped, refreshing her dry mouth. Her tail swished in thought. The rings that adorned it captured pinpoints of light in their smooth surface and the points of light twinkled like little white stars. Her eyes shifted over to Anya and she was satisfied to see that she had survived the battle without a scratch. No shrapnel, not scars or burns. Not even a single bruise. Krystal felt protective of her and it warmed her to know the feeling was entirely mutual. Her brown eyes held a detached air about them for the moment as her mind worked to process everything she had seen and heard. 

And done. 

Krystal had opted to take a quick break, tearing her eyes from the devastation to center herself. They had won the skirmish but not the war and she did not have to be psychic to know that Scales and the rest of his legion would be descending from the skies at any moment now. The issue was getting everyone to move out so soon after such horrendous traumas. 

“Any updates from your military?” Krystal spoke, finishing the last of her water. The bottom of the empty glass stared back up at her like a tiny well. 

“They should be here in about two days,” Mari responded, fiddling with a few wires on the cumbersome and gaudily colored communication box. 

“We may not have two days, I’m afraid,” Krystal intoned. She felt deeply for the fact so many were going to be torn away from what amounted to the closest thing they possessed to a home so far from their birth planet. The loss of the home was a pain she knew intimately. It could happen suddenly, switching your whole life into a direction you never would have anticipated nor wished for yourself. It had been little over a year since the loss Cerinia and the wounds ached potently. Less so on some days as grief had a harsh nature of ebb and flow. She felt Anya’s eyes flit to her with the same speed and sudden clarity of a statue being gifted life. She could tell some deep pain was fluctuating inside her and she could comprehend it. But unfortunately now was not the time to ask. 

“I figured as much. I’ve informed some of the others we will have to move out and likely soon,” Mari said. “Do you think Scales will pursue us once he realizes his men are dead?”

“Scales fears me and once he realizes I’m still alive he will act and he won’t care about how many he’ll kill to get to me.”

Outside the world had a haze over it. Smoke, death, the slow setting of the moons as night began the inevitable trickle of bleeding into the hours of dawn. 

“I suggest we begin preparing now,” Krystal responded, shifting her toned legs. “They could arrive at any second."

Mari nodded, her hair flowing with the movement and she pushed her red rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. 

“Already have people gathering as many essentials and personal belongings as they can. We should have enough trucks and jeeps to pull it off. Navigating through that jungle will be a bitch though.”

“What about military rescue?” Anya at last spoke up, having gulped down the last of her water to give herself enough confidence to finally resume talking once more. She still didn’t trust herself to stand at the present time. 

“There are multiple points they know to land at in the case of emergency evacuation, all I’ll need to do is message them which one in advance.” 

Anya’s posture relaxed slightly, she dragged the heel of her right boot across the floor silently. 

“Which will be easiest, do you think?” Krystal asked, listening intently. Her gaze when she was focused was not a piercing stare in the traditional sense of the meaning. The attentiveness of her was honed, taking in every detail and it held an air of dignity. A trust that she could do something with the information and somehow everything would be alright in the end. 

Looking at her now, Anya trusted her. Trust was something that had been dulled in her from experience but with Krystal it came entirely without effort. Familiarity of a sort that flew past what most would consider plausible or rational. In the time she had met the vixen she somehow felt more alert. Something inside her was awakening and she did not fully understand as to what. Her vision of the Sharpclaw in the trees a testament to that. 

“There’s a clearing about thirty miles out that should be big enough to allow one of the cruisers to land and pick us up. When the exploratory crew mapped out the area around us their reports indicate the path to it is relatively clear in comparison to the others,” Mari’s index finger tapped the armrest of her chair in thought, her nail creating a little rhythm. 

Krystal nodded, setting her empty glass aside when she realized she was still holding it. She rose from her seat, staff still attached to her hip and swaying from her movement. Anya briefly regarded the weapon as she remembered how fast Krystal had moved with it. And how quickly she had ended the lives of the Sharpclaw with it. Looking at it now one would have never suspected it had ever seen active combat. 

Her ears twitched and her gaze turned towards the ceiling with a fixed stare as though she could see through it. 

“He’s here.”

\----

The air rumbled as the first of the ships lowered themselves past the clouds. Fire from entering the atmosphere roiled off the hulls harmlessly and smoke billowed with it hellishly. A metal djinn from the depths of space. Even from the mountains the windows of the settlement rattled and the ground vibrated with an odd hum as one, two, three and finally a fourth ship lowered from the sky. They hovered strategically around the mountains. 

The largest followed after a long and tortuous beat of silence. A bird caterwauled from the jungle around them. Even through the mangled clouds they could see a ball of fire searing through them. Again the air thrummed with a deep boom as the largest ship they had ever seen lowered. A vicious thing of black, silver and gold. It’s command bridge perched upon a metal neck overlooking all in sight. The red visor of its window peering unblinkingly as an evil eye that brought death to all it looked at. In comparison to those that had preceded it held a strange menace that felt disturbingly organic in nature. The presence of true evil was a unique one and something not everyone experienced in their lives with such clarity. 

Many of the colonists felt the hope drain out of them. If they had felt emboldened by their victory the sheer size of the Titanosaurus alone snuffed it out with the same ease as a quick puff of air puts out a candle’s light. A few even fell to their knees in something that went beyond horror. The crushing realization of how utterly they were outmatched. 

It came to a rest over the mountain. Resting in the air silently. A specter of metal that awaited its next move without fear. With that sort of power, what did it have to fear? 

But its leader was afraid. Not in the sense that one fears someone physically superior to themselves, but a much deeper kind. Encroaching upon existential. The fear that stemmed from the threat of losing power. The fear of understanding that there was one who would never bow or surrender and for all the destructive might wielded nothing would change that, for her will was more immovable than the very mountains it rested over. 

Krystal stood slightly ahead of all the others, looking back at the ships unflinchingly. A faint warm breeze stirred a few strands of her hair and she registered Anya’s presence at her side. Acknowledging her with an appreciative, enveloping smile. In the background they could hear Mari begin to issue orders; rallying those who could to speed up the evacuation process and remain as calm as they could. Some still stared numbly. Eyes glazed and when they did move they moved cadaverously. 

“What will happen now?” Anya asked. In spite of everything she did not feel terror. In fact she could feel her energy returning to her. Soreness of body and weariness evaporating and she felt the determination to fight flow into her veins with the intensity of lightning. 

“We move on.”

Krystal’s eyes scanned over the mountains and she understood at last what Scales was after. A weapon so horrifying few knew of it. Something that those who had come before her wanted to be lost to the eons; never even to be whispered about in caution or spoken of brazenly. Something so terrible they just wanted everyone to forget that a blasphemy towards existence itself lingered on. Entombed in the womb of a mountain. 

Krystal had read of these mountains as a child. One of the few surviving sources to explicitly mention them by name. 

Warlock Mountain. 

Named so for the madman who had sought to craft such a weapon. Pieces of research gathered over the course of her war with Scales had told of a legendary mountain that held within it a weapon of destruction that in concept could threaten the whole of existence. She had suspected that it was what Scales was hunting so feverishly but the fact it was on this planet of all places…

“Krystal?”

The vixen regarded the burgundy haired woman and felt clarity return to her. The sun began to creep over the horizon. Red as blood and hailing the new day. 

“What’s in those mountains? What are they after?” 

They began to move in unison to assist with the evacuation. 

“A weapon. It has no name beyond that, they refused to give it one.”

“...Just what are we dealing with?”

“Something that should not exist.” 

Before Anya even realized it they were back in her living quarters, gathering what few things could be considered essential. The familiarity of the room did little to quell the urgency and strangely the whole place felt different now. The sensation of something resembling home was gone now. She wanted to get out. 

“Many, many years ago there were a people known as the Krazoa. For thousands of years they lived as Sauria’s dominant race, creating wonders of sorcery and technology. In the final years of their civilization one among them created a weapon that ushered in their downfall. The great Krazoa spirits sealed it away, far away in a place that came to be known as Warlock Mountain.”

Anya paused after Krystal stopped speaking, holding the suitcase in her hand. Her thumb brushing over its handle.

“I take it this is the short version of the story?”

Krystal nodded in affirmation, gesturing that they should keep moving with her hand. The boots clinked on the floor as they moved briskly, Anya’s ponytail bouncing with every step. 

“Are you...are you certain this superweapon is here? On this planet?” Anya breathed out the question in a manner that was oddly breathless. It seemed as though with every passing moment the situation worsened and grew more complicated. A weapon created by a now dead, ancient civilization that was for all intents and purposes at their very doorstep? In the grander scheme of things it was a huge revelation that surpassed the standard notion of war. 

“Positive. Information about it is incredibly scarce but Scales wouldn’t come all this way unless he was certain,” Krystal responded. The early morning sun casting its radiant glow on her blue and white-furred face with such picturesque quality she almost appeared to glow with the grace of an astral being. Looking back over at the mountains and the fleet of ships that loomed over them like metal vultures Krystal almost shivered. In her dreams she had seen ghastly caricatures of Warlock Mountain. Twisted and gnarled shadows and the traces of annihilation had hung over it like a stench leaving its true outer appearance a mystery. Spiritually eroded by the evil thing held within it. 

“I think we should tell Mari so she can relay it over to the military,” Anya said, gesturing over to the brunette who was currently speaking to three men, higher ups that were a rank or two below her. Loading the injured was another top priority and it was fortunate the number of severely wounded was relatively low. The able bodied would have to walk much of the way. 

“I hope it’s alright I let you do most of the talking, I’m not sure how to explain a supernatural weapon to an ex-special forces operative,” Anya dryly remarked, pleased to see Krystal smile at her humor. 

“I think, even if she was a skeptic, she’d be inclined to believe us now.”

\----

General Scales regarded Warlock Mountain with a cold satisfaction. His three-fingered hand extended to touch the window and from a perspective altered by the distance from which the Titanosaurus hovered it appeared that his very hand blotted out the tall rocky spire where his prize was concealed. His claws scraped along the glass as he made a fist. The chart that he had obtained years ago detailing this very mountain down to the last detail was so burned into his memory and fueled by obsession he need not check it to be sure. He knew. In his heart filled with hateful ichor and greed he knew it. 

“General,” a raspy voiced Sharpclaw spoke from behind him, keeping his distance. Scales glowered into the window for a moment; his fiery eyes gleaming in irritation as his feeling of triumph was diluted. His nostrils flared as he breathed out deeply.

“What is it?”

“We cannot get in contact with the men you sent out.”

Now he felt true rage. 

_“Krystal.”_ He raged within. For so long they had met, clashed and had their shares of victories and losses. Beneath that pitch black fury pulsed a dull fear as the understanding he could still lose this war weighed heavily on his mind. He restrained the urge to kill the soldier on reflex for even indirectly reminding him of her. Why of all beings was she so persistent? Always there even when the odds were entirely against her. Why? It went beyond self preservation and born of righteous indignation. He knew he was evil. He did not deny this. But why fight? Evil, as he had found the definition most gave it, was the suzerain of the universe. The evil went far in life; untamed by reservations that befell those with morals or "goodness." It was conquest that gave birth to civilizations and new eras and knowledge. It was what allowed those such as himself to feed their cravings. Consciously he could not put it into words: But Krystal's very existence attacked his core beliefs and in his great fear, fretted over whether she could prove him wrong. 

“Prepare the cannon and target that settlement. I want it destroyed! Wipe it off the face of the galaxy!” His voice rose to a roar and he relished in the sight of a few less composed Sharpclaw cower before him. It nourished the hunger for power inside him and he found it exquisite. 

“Y-yes sir. Ready the cannon!” The soldier relayed the order with a hitch in his voice. 

**“You will...fail…”**

The voice of the Krazoa spirit reverberated in his skull deafeningly and Scales could not resist clasping his hand to the side of his head in disorientation. The bridge blurred in his vision and it shocked him how powerful the voice sounded now. It had never been this strong!

 **“Your evil heart will steer you towards your demise.”** The spirit spoke not mockingly or harshly. It spoke as one speaking a fact more permanent than stone.

“SILENCE!!!!” Scales boomed in a half mad rage so frightful even the most stoic of the crew jolted in their place or cowered outright. He thrashed his powerful arms and his tail banged on the floor with a thunderous clang. 

“I WILL NOT HAVE MY AMBITION QUESTIONED BY A SPIRIT!” He roared. His gaze turned upwards and his breathing filled the room as he waited to see if it would respond. None other than him had heard the voice and some wondered if Scales was truly as insane as they had suspected when he had first spoken of an ancient weapon and blasphemous magic and machinery. 

There was no response...but Scales had no interest in taking chances. His breathing steadying his lips formed a sneer as he knew what he had to do next. 

“You,” he pointed to the Sharpclaw that had initially spoken to him in the first place. “Come with me. The rest of you see to your duties. I want that cannon ready when I return!”

None raised objection as he and the soldier departed, the doors hissing and clasping shut behind them with the same absolution of prison bars. 

\----

Krystal watched as Mari’s pretty face paled considerably in light of what she had just told her. But to her credit she composed herself quickly and took out her communicator, adjusting its frequencies and mumbling insults as it couldn’t quite connect as fast as she would have liked. They stood in her office presently, not wanting to be overheard. 

Krystal felt uneasy. A churning in her stomach as she felt they did not have much time left. But still she kept the feeling visibly buried. It was important the rescue and counter fleet knew what they were dealing with. But a part of her couldn’t help but consider that even then that might not make much of a difference. She knew Scales had a Krazoa in his captivity…

What readings she had obtained about the weapon over the years had all agreed that its creator had not been able to keep it functioning for more than a few minutes at most. He had put forth the notion that to utilize its full potential it would require an unlimited source of energy. But even a few minutes had been more than enough to nearly obliterate all of ancient Sauria itself and it was only divine intervention that had spared it and allowed a new civilization to begin anew from its ashes. 

Her attention snapped back to Mari as she finally got through to someone.

“This is sub-supervisor Mari Makinami. Exercise extreme caution when approaching the planet, the enemy may soon be in possession of an unknown weapon. Repeat: Enemy may soon be in possession of an unknown weapon.”

“Copy that,” a male voice crackled back with an odd monotone that was a stark and almost comical contrast to the dire situation. Mari sighed, brushing a lock of brown hair out of her face. Krystal nodded her gratitude but still that sensation of time slipping away gnawing at her mind.

“We should get going,” her voice even but her eyes conveyed the urgency perfectly. 

“Everyone should be ready to move out at this point,” Mari whisked past, beckoning with a hand. They broke into a full sprint as soon as they were out the door. 

\----

The Sharpclaw soldier shuddered in the presence of the Krazoa. Even though restrained by machinery and magic too vile to speak of it still had a unique aura about it. Everything about the room; with its symbols and tubes and pipes and gigantic holding cell...all was unnatural. A mockery of both life and death. The purple glow thrummed and flashed erratically with an air of defiance. 

The soldier in his fear and awe had not noticed Scales stood behind him now rather than ahead. 

“What’s happening to-”

He never finished his sentence. 

Scales seized him by the chin with his hand and harshly jerked his head up with such ferocity he nearly snapped his neck fatally. The soldier did not even get the opportunity to futilely claw and pry at the appendage to try and free himself before the twin hooks tore his throat open. 

Blood erupted from the deep, ugly openings; arterial spray decorating the surface of the Krazoa’s prison with every dying beat of the soldier’s fading heart. He felt blood and froth dribble over his fingers and Scales allowed himself a vindictive smile. Black magic was strongest with shed blood and though the ritual would be brief it would still be sufficient. 

A rattle and the limp body told him his subordinate was dead and without sparing him a glance allowed him to flop wetly to the slickened ground. 

Raising his blood soaked hand Scales began to speak in a language that would not be recognized by many. The dead language of the Krazoa themselves. He gestured ritualistically with his hand the same symbols meticulously worked into the metal of the prison itself. The symbols flashed red and the blood now appeared to be black as tar in the unnatural haze. From his own mouth the language was spat out harshly and gutturally. Without reverence or care but echoing his desire to bend the spirit to his will. 

The glow grew brighter and the blood condensed onto the patterns themselves; sucked in with the same obscene hunger of a fat pond leech feasting for itself. The blood on the floor flowed towards the prison, red wet strands coiling like serpents into it as the dark power Scales invoked gorged itself. 

The final word left his mouth and a decisive gesture ended the brief ritual. A red flash so bright in intensity even he could not gaze into it fully enveloped the entire room in a manner akin to a supernova. 

And then it simply vanished. Replace by the steady, unbroken purple of the prison and its single inhabitant. Not a trace of blood to be found and an equally bloodless corpse at his feet. 

He was satisfied that the spirit did not speak and that its voice did not follow him as he left. There was something of a spring in his step as indulged in what seemed to be an encroaching victory. 

To Scales there was nothing that could not be solved by spilling blood and he laughed a deep, howling laugh through the halls. His horned and hooked shadow splashed onto the walls and brushed the ceiling. As disfigured and heinous in appearance as his soul.


	8. Chapter 8

They’d been making their way through the jungle brush collectively when it happened. From a massive cannon on the Titanosaurus’ underside that had unveiled itself from the interior of its metal home. Energy coiling about the length like serpents and crackling and flashing with a psychotic rage that mirrored the one who ordered it to fire. A beam fired from its tip and sliced through the air, spiraling and twisting with a perverse ethereality moments before it struck the settlement.

Krystal knew it was no ordinary cannon but even she could not have fully anticipated the sheer destructive power she witnesses. Even at a distance half obscured by the jungle the flash was so intense she turned away with a wince, gritting her teeth and shielding her eyes. The ground trembled and a tidal wave of dust and soil washed over the numerous jeeps and transport vehicles. Over the rush of howling wind and the rumbling she could make out the screams of fright and at least three jeeps were flung helplessly into the air. Bouncing off thick tree trunks, rolling and buckling and shattering on the ground. 

The escape group halted until the worst of it passed. Through the haze the hellish glow of the explosion itself rose as a great dome, higher and higher. Expanding and consuming all in its path. Were one to have been enveloped by it they would have felt no pain, merely embraced by a blinding light and all that was beyond that light.

Anya clutched Krystal’s hand and the anxiety from her was palpable. Shredded branches, clumps of dirt and rock pounded on the jeep’s exterior in a manner reminiscent of rain drops. 

The glow began to fade and the wind and debris slowed and tapered to a trickle. Then there was silence. 

Taking a deep breath Krystal stepped out of the jeep and surveyed the area. Others from different transports followed suit; some even drawing their weapons and aiming them futility for comfort. The jeeps that had been destroyed were buried by debris or so utterly ruined they amounted to little else that clumps of metal stained with blood and other things no one among their number wished to dwell on. Smoke rose from a crater in the distance now, thick and almost volcanic in the sheer thick pervasiveness of it. 

Krystal’s grip on the door tightened as she questioned what she should do next silently to herself. On one hand she argued with herself that she should go with the escapees...but by that point it would be too late. Escape wouldn’t even matter by that point. And on the other it would appear to be suicide to face and entire legion by herself.

“Is that the power of a Krazoa?” Anya asked quietly behind her, her boots crunching. Stillness hung all around them, the very jungle defiled by an act of unprecedented destruction. 

“It is,” Krystal replied, equally quiet. 

“What do we do now?” 

“You all should keep moving. I suspect Scales won’t be firing again anytime soon,” Krystal deduced calmly. “The Krazoa’s power may be nigh unlimited, but the technology used to channel it is not.” 

“‘You all’? Don’t tell me you’re planning on going to fight them all by yourself,” Anya retorted and even before she turned to face her friend Krystal could feel the woman’s brown eyes boring into her back. Anya’s face was screwed into a perplexed scowl at the idea. In any other scenario it would have been chuckle inducing. 

“The rest of you need to escape-,”

“Don’t act like this is just your fight now,” Anya interrupted, standing a bit taller. “I’m coming with you.”

“There is no talking you out of this is there?” Krystal couldn’t resist a smile tugging at her lips and a rare relief filled her heart at not bearing this impending battle alone. It was a relief more radiant than the sun. 

Anya only smiled back. 

“You don’t have to be psychic to know that.”

\----

No sooner had Scales ordered the annihilation of the settlement had he wheeled around rabidly commanding that the excavation begin immediately. Gesturing wildly no one could truly ascertain as to whether he was feeling the rush of wide scale destruction flood his veins or if it was fear. If Krystal was dead it didn’t seem far-fetched to speculate he feared her spirit continuing the fight from beyond the mortal veil. The fear and awe from his soldiers stung his nostrils sweetly as he breathed in. Finally he shown them the power of a Krazoa. Power that he wielded as he saw fit, power he had innovated and claimed. His power. 

But, he still had to keep them inspired through more ways than fear. As they scrambled to mobilize he spoke over the intercom with a boisterousness that mirrored the early days to his climb to power. He relayed his words not just his own ship but the entire fleet.

“You see my loyal Sharpclaw? That is the power at our mighty tribe’s disposal! But that is merely a fraction of what our hard work and my vision have in store for us! Once the prize within Warlock Mountain is plundered we have the potential to command the very fabric of existence itself! All of it and more will be ours!”

Those on the bridge cheered, saluting or pumping three-fingered fists into the air. War cries echoed throughout the ships in a series of bellows that echoed and intensified into one collective cry as visions of the future danced in their minds. For now their fear was forgotten as was their unnecessary hardships. Scales could lead them to the bright future they were promised by him years ago! Scales was great! Scales was a savior! Songs of old glory and a chorus to the glory to come. 

On the bridge he stood, arms spread wide as he basked in cheers and eager howls of war. In a moment that for him was whimsical he actually closed his demonic eyes and breathed in slowly as though he could absorb the emotions into himself as sustenance. It was magnificent. The hold he had over them. His single fist clenched.

The power he would hold over everything. 

\----

Navigating through the brush once more with Krystal gave Anya the sensation of deja vu. Convincing Mari to let them set off on their own for the time being had been a relatively swift affair. She trusted both of their capabilities and the demonstration of the destructive power the tyrant wielded had been convincing enough in and of itself. 

“We’ll save time once we board my ship,” Krystal spoke, lifting a thin branch with her hand to allow Anya to neatly follow her. 

“You can call it to you?” Anya asked, doing her best to suppress any overt amazement and she wondered how that was possible. She had not seen any distinct technology with her aside from her staff. 

“I can,” they walked on. The jungle unnaturally still in face of the devastation it had faced. So silent was it that the rustling of leaves and the subtle sounds of their footsteps felt obscenely loud. Every lifeform in it, predator and prey alike concealed themselves away. Save for them. Two travelers with a mission. 

Anya wondered if she took this mission upon herself or if it was because for some reason or another she felt called to Krystal herself. 

Stopping Scales was clearly important to her for intricate, personal reasons. And in the greater scope of everything Krystal and Scales were diametrically opposed beings and neither would stand for the existence of the other. An inevitable clash. 

Anya nearly bumped into her when she stopped walking. She grunted, clearing her throat in soft embarrassment and took three steps back to give her proper space. 

The vixen’s head was turned towards the sky. A rare wide opening in the jungle’s thick canopy. 

“This should do,” Krystal murmured, satisfied. Her hand found her staff and with but a thought it extended to full length. The rays of morning sunlight twinkling along it majestically as she held diagonally above her head. The runic engravings began to glow, a gentle budding ebb of light that steadily intensified. Purple and blue radiating from its body and a gentle hum sang in the air with a lovely reverberation that was almost hypnotic. 

Anya felt herself smiling at the sight and the unearthly musical emanation. So stunning and clear in juxtaposition to the frightening situations of life and death she had found herself in. 

Krystal opened her eyes and lowered her staff, holding it with care as the light and sound faded. 

“My ship should be here momentarily,” Krystal said with a light, delicate smile on her lips. She found Anya’s wonderment endearing. How incongruous it seemed that one could be so guarded around others yet possess the capacity to feel an earnest wonder at the sight of the extraordinary. It was a charming quality and a rare one. 

“You can psychically call your own ship?” Anya said, her brown eyes locked on Krystal. At the moment she didn’t even acknowledge the growing heat of the day. 

“Somewhat. Cerinians can often link psionic weapons to their vehicles for such things.”

“Cerinians?” Anya repeated, feeling the word on her tongue. She quickly felt guilty when she saw a sad look cross Krystal’s face and the sorrowful glint that entered her kindly eyes. Her back had stiffened and Anya realized Krystal may have very well not intended to say the name of what she could reasonably deduce was the name of her people. 

“Yes,” Krystal replied, overcoming the sorrow of the memories that had threatened to flood her mind. She had staved it off when the settlement had been annihilated and battled them back just as fiercely now. Anya could recognize profound grief when she saw it. Grief fluctuated and flowed dangerously as a black river. Trickling away and returning in great floods at unexpected moments and all the fresh horror it elicited. A poison that hungered for more pain. It had occurred to her more than once that Krystal must be very, very far away from her as she had never once mentioned her home planet. Nor had she indicated her people as a collective were at war with Scales and the Sharpclaw. 

“Sorry, I should have kept my mouth shut,” Anya scorned herself when her gaze felt the insatiable urge to fix itself downward out of shame and guilt. 

“Don’t be, I-,”

A deep hum vibrated the air and the trees were rustled as a sleek vessel hovered above them. Its color was a deep night blue, almost black. With a fin that ran the length of the cockpit and down its back and stopping at the jets. It was more angular than Anya had expected it to look. Not aggressive in appearance The tinted windows of the cockpit made it impossible to peer into even in the brightness of the sun; with grace it lowered itself past the canopy and to the jungle floor. The thrum of its anti-gravitational forces that permitted it to hover and lower itself flawlessly creating a clear haze beneath it not dissimilar to the haze of a hot day. 

The grass barely whispered as it touched down and moments later its doors parted and a small set of silver stairs unfolded themselves for easy entry. Krystal’s ship, upon closer inspection, did bear the brunt of old wounds. Nothing excessive in nature or debilitating to the ship’s function. Light pockmarks and the occasional dent. The most notable sign of old damage was a laser scorch mark adjacent to the ship’s fin, the black mark stopping just before it began to trail down the side. Maintaining a ship by one’s own self and with limited resources took skill and it was evident that Krystal had succeeded in spite of the odds. 

Her boot heels musically clinked up the steps quickly, her ringed tail swaying behind her. 

Anya followed moments later after laying her awkwardness of the prior exchange aside. She believed Krystal when she indicated there was no harm done; but in regards to the emotions of those she held as friends Anya had always been sensitive to their needs and did everything possible to avoid breaching emotional barriers.

The ship’s interior was a warm metallic silver hue and pleasantly cool when held up in contrast to the harsh heat of the outside. The stairs neatly folded themselves up behind her and the doors whispered shut. The slight gust stirring the tips of her burgundy hair. 

The ship was spacious enough but clearly designed for personal use and could only accommodate two or three lifeforms in total. It widened out towards the back further to pave the proper way for the engine room and though she could not see any doors leading to personal quarters she did not doubt they were there. Albeit well concealed.

“Anya?” Krystal called from upfront, polite in tone but clearly wanting to take off.

“Right, coming!” 

Briskly she made her way up to the front, a series of soft blue lights illuminating the entryway to the cockpit itself giving it an almost heavenly aura and the sensation of entering another world. 

Two seats sat behind her pilot’s chair neatly. Anya was thankfully there was enough leg room. Human transport vessels of similar or equal size were not so accommodating in nature. She laid her shotgun across her lap after taking her seat to the right of Krystal. The controls were simple and clearly color coordinated. Reds and deep ocean blues, switches and at least two levers. The yoke a dark silver and a button atop it that assuredly controlled its method of attack. Anya strapped herself in as a few button pushes and tilt of the yoke lifted the vessel off the ground. 

“So it doesn’t function entirely off anti-gravity?”

“No, it’s used solely for hovering, landing and takeoff,” the trees passed them by slowly. Brown bleeding into soft foliage and the distinctive sound of branches tapping the hull echoed like raindrops. The engines did not roar to life as much as they rumbled. Above the canopy they took off. Krystal did not intend to rocket headlong towards the enemy and staring at the fleet in the distance it was easy to comprehend as to why. An airborne assault would be suicide. 

Coordinates materialized on the small screen in a language Anya could not recognize. Elegant in nature, she found the way the Cerinian letters were stylized to be soft. Ancient runes scrawled with a delicate hand in the finest cursive. 

Krystal effortlessly steered the ship off the straight path in which they were flying. 

“We’ll go around them and touch down in the mountains themselves. Take them by surprise.”

“Krystal,” Anya licked her lips to find her voice once more, “if Scales manages to get this weapon...what’ll happen?” 

Dread in her heart. Krystal’s description of the enigma that they pursued had certainly established it as something beyond the conventional realm of terror of even the most notorious human superweapons. She could not see it in her mind, give it a tangible form. Krystal’s finger gripped the yoke a bit tighter as she carefully weighed her responses. 

“I’m not sure what he’ll do with it in the end barring death and conquest. I suspect he’ll return to planet Sauria first.”

“Revenge?”

“That and he’ll want to obtain the remaining Krazoa spirits.”

“Do you know what this thing can do?”

“It was only utilized once, if ancient text is correct. The...madman,” from the tone of her voice Anya deduced the word “madman” was the most tame label she could give the one who had invented such a malefic instrument of destruction. “Who created it only had enough power to operate it for only a few minutes. And in those few minutes he pulled Sauria’s moon from the sky.”  
Anya rested her head against the seat, feeling herself weightlessly sinking into it. 

“It was only the intervention of the Krazoa spirits that saved the planet. The dinosaurs would become the dominant species of the planet after that,” Krystal narrated grimly. “Scales deduced it required not electrical energy, but spiritual.” 

They banked to the left further and a swooping turn carried them further away from the fleet as they drew ever closer to the mountains. 

Approaching Warlock Mountain only intensified the dread they both felt. It had an unnatural presence about it and it had only grown stronger. As if a dark conscious sea had recognized Scales’ pilgrimage to find its hidden prize and was all too pleased to bequeath it to him. 

“We should arrive soon.”

\----

Whatever gratitude and joy many of the Sharpclaw had felt upon at last planting their feet on natural ground for the first time in several standard months was quickly dashed away by the foreboding aura of malice that permeated the mountain air. It was chilled in a manner most unnatural and as they marched through the ravine of rock their beady eyes noted the meticulous detail carved on every last bit of the rock itself. Hieroglyphs of a long gone civilization and the tragedy that had befallen them, Sauria but not as they knew it. A celestial body, the moon, pulled from the sky. Fire and death. The spirits intervening and restoring the planet. Binding and warding spells carved into the rock. Unaffected by what should have been centuries upon centuries of erosion and other elements. 

Aside from them, nothing moved. No calls of mountain animals. The wind was stiff and uninviting and oddly seemed still despite the sensation of movement. 

The soldiers could not fully encompass the full scope of the place that they tread through but they knew instinctively that this was an unnatural place.

An enormous arch greeted them and Scales paused to look at the face carved at its peak. His soldiers parted around him, filing in and the rolling of heavy equipment did not pull his stare away. It was the face of a Krazoa, not a spirit, but a member of the dead civilization. The very being who had built the travesty he had relentlessly pursued. An old face, with thin lips pulled in a sour grimace and a bushy beard recreated from stone. Ears tapering into horn-like points. A bald head and aristocratic nose and though like the face his eyes were a stony replication of the real thing, but even then they radiated a malevolence that reached through time. 

No soldier dared look up at the eyes of the madman and as the last of his troops filtered by him did it occur to Scales he had stood there for several minutes. He smiled. Kinship was not something important to him but in the eyes of a long dead madman he recognized the reality that had driven this being as it did him. 

The sentience of others was an obscenity to him. 

He passed the threshold and entered the ceremonial grounds at the base of the spire. It loomed over all and in spite of the sun still appeared to be bathed in the night.

In the center was a megalith. Twelve carved points encircling a smooth slab of stone, decorated in more hieroglyphs. Scales strode over to it without fear and placed his single hand on it. The stone was corpse like in its coldness and its purpose eluded him. He had suspicions as to what the twelve points circled about it represented symbolically but the slab. This megalith was not detailed in any records he had scoured. 

Was that owed to deliberate obstruction of knowledge, or the passage of time gradually plucking away the sources that remained? 

“What are you all staring at? Get to work!” He commanded, gesturing with his twin hooks at the stupidly staring Sharpclaw. Immediately they sprang to action in a method uncannily alike a automaton. Fearful of Scales, fear of this place and all the implications that accompanied it. 

Fear was a powerful bondage. Scales again looked towards the spire that towered over all without eyes or voice but saw and whispered to him all the same. 

\----

“We’re coming up on a landing spot now,” Krystal intoned, pointing to a cranny that was the perfect combination of wide enough for a ship to land and concealed enough to be safe from hostile eyes. Krystal began the landing process but her mind was distant. A chill had crawled down her spine and the ichor blackness of the forbidden evil hummed in the air, a grotesque smog of the ether. She began powering down the ship as soon as it neatly touched the surface, thinking of Anya. 

She knew a Krazoa spirit, likely the same held prisoner by Scales had reached out to her in her dreams the day they had met and taken refuge in the cave. Anya had a power and it was beginning to surface from the recess of her soul. She turned to face her friend and saw she was composed but her pale features were paler than usual and a cold sweat clung to her body. Easy to miss to the unobservant. 

Krystal’s legs shifted subtly before she unbuckled herself from the pilot’s chair and stood to reach out to Anya. Her furred hands clasped her face, drawing her back out of her purgatorial silence. 

“Anya, the place we are venturing into is unlike anything you’ve experienced up until this point. It will have an affect on you.”

“I think it already is,” she smiled reassuringly, not minding the touch as she stood up, slinging her shotgun over her shoulder. Twin belts of casings lining over her chest and back. She suppressed a wavering breath as she looked the vixen in her deep turquoise eyes, divinely shimmering from blue or green depending on the lighting.

“If you need help, I’m here,” Krystal said in earnest. 

Anya nodded as she began to quietly pass her. Her chin tilted downward as she fought to conjure the words she wanted to speak with the intensity of a sorcerer about to speak an incantation. 

“Krystal.”

“Hm?”

“If you need help...just remember I’m here too, alright?”

Krystal remained silent for a moment, detecting that Anya certainly wasn’t just referencing the supernatural. The prior awkward conversation flashed in her mind like a bolt. But she smiled, knowing her intentions were pure. And for someone as guarded as the woman was did not come from falsities generated by social expectations that revealed their hollowness under pressure. 

“Thank you, Anya.” 

They set off. Prepared to face the challenges ahead.


	9. Chapter 9

Warlock Mountain had been foreboding at a distance and even then it had not fully prepared either of them for the miasma of evil that hung over it. It slithered in the crevices and crannies and plateaus with the same intensity of a predator’s eyes. Krystal moved at a brisk pace, concentrating on the sound of her footfalls on the stone to steel herself against it. She peered over her shoulder and was relieved to see that Anya was not in a panic though she was clearly anxious. Her pale features visibly paler and the grip on her shotgun was tighter. She kept looking about; unsure if the wind was a voice or the voice was on the wind itself. She heard no voice but held the strange anticipation of hearing someone speak. 

“You needn’t worry about any animals,” Krystal assured, standing over the other woman on a flight of winding stairs that circled about a spire of rock that would take them down it’s other side. Nothing moved. This mountain had not sustained life in thousands of years. Nor did it seem to be eroded from the elements. 

“I figured as much,” Anya breathed out, “this place is so…”

“Evil.”

“Yes.”

An image, a memory flashed in Krystal’s mind suddenly she physically covered her eyes from the sharpness of its intrusion. Cerinia. Dead. The planetary body floating in space and screams coalescing into one resentful shriek rang into her ears. Anger at her survival. Anger at their deaths. Anger. 

“Krystal?!” Anya gripped her shoulder as Krystal’s lips twisted sorrowfully and her ears flattened out. “Krystal!” Anya jostled her with a firm care that snapped her out of it. The wind whistled with a cruel chill. Krystal appeared confused for a moment, questioningly peering into Anya’s face before remembering where she was. Consciously she began to steady her breathing, leaning into Anya’s touch for a moment and the images in her head shattered and transformed to a nothing dust. 

“A-are you...Krystal are you okay?” Anya pondered if that was a stupid inquiry. The sorrow that had plainly gripped her had skewered her heart and she felt the need to make it go away however she was able to. 

“I...yes. This place will target your mind and soul,” Krystal murmured, running a hand over the stone. “Come, there isn’t much time to waste.” 

Krystal knew she could trust Anya but she wasn’t ready to discuss what had happened to Cerinia and her people. Nor that she had every reason to believe she was the last of her kind. Warlock Mountain was a place that preyed upon the pain of those who set foot into it, should it see fit. She doubted Scales was having much issue in that regard. It fed upon and exacerbated harmful memories and excruciating emotions. Distracting and assailing the mind and heart. Krystal had read stories of lost souls who had found Warlock Mountain and had never come back. Broken and lost in a maze of suffering that smeared into a never ending blur. They came up the stairs to begin the process of winding down and Krystal noted the ancient runic symbols meticulously carved into the stone and she trailed her hand over them, feeling the shifting patterns beneath her palm. 

“What are they?” Anya asked, both curious and looking to occupy her mind. She knew that if Warlock Mountain could affect Krystal then it could do the same to her. And then she began to wonder why it hadn’t tried yet. 

“Binding ruins,” Krystal gestured to be careful as they rounded to the other side and began their descent to the mouth of a cave tunnel. Perfect in shape it waited like the jaws of a jungle plant. Patiently awaiting its next meal. 

“Spells meant to contain evil.” 

The Krazoa had done all in the power to try and save the universe from the weapon that one of their own kind had sought to unleash upon life and it was a painful notion to the vixen that someone had the power to undo that with an intent as insidious as the one who had created it. 

“There are stories of similar things on earth.”

“Some concepts are universal.”

Krystal’s eyes gazed on the ancient inscriptions, so old even their complete meaning eluded her. She found that touching them alleviated some of the pressure that threatened to crush her spirit. Focusing through the haze and on the task at hand. She countered the negative imagery with ones of happiness. The warm jungles of Cerinia where she had spent much of her life, the waves of Cerinia’s greatest sea and the singing calls of the birds. Her parents. Their smiles and the timber of their voices. How their love followed her and stayed with her even now. 

It felt that the mountain had grown less cold as the seeping misery that confronted her was beaten back with a calm but ferocious determination. 

Anya felt apprehension at the cave ahead. More so than any other aspect of the mountain they had seen and experienced thus far. The maw of it mocking her and hissing whispers that made her throat feel a terrible lump build up within it.

“Can you hear that?”

Krystal turned to her companion and her concern was unmistakable. 

“No. But I can feel a sinister aura,” Krystal responded evenly, her voice touched Anya’s mind and the woman felt reassured but it did not change the fact that stepping foot into that cursed cave was the last thing she wished to do, presently. 

They stood at the maw of it now, stalactites hung from the lip of the roof like fangs. Jagged and ugly. 

“It’s focusing on me now, isn’t it?”

“Shhh, don’t think about that,” Krystal took Anya’s left hand in her own. “Try focusing on me.”

Intuitively Anya opened her mind, envisioning great doors of cool metal parting and a steady stream of water flowing through the entrance and with it came Krystal’s warm, accented voice. 

_“Can you hear me?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Good,”_ they began to move with slow and deliberate steps and it only just occurred to Anya that her eyes were shut but she deduced it was best to keep them closed. She squeezed the furred hand gently, allowing herself to flow with her companion and trusting her guidance. 

_“This darkness is merely the aftermath of a madman’s dead dream. It is powerless over you and I. There is nothing to fear in this moment.”_

Anya felt the words reverberate with a powerful, thrumming echo like notes played off a stringed instrument. It’s vibrations purred in her veins and the voices were swept away as nothing more than ashes. 

A hand brushed over her forehead and she opened her eyes, in the open once more and momentarily the light was blinding. Her mind condensed again and she felt pleasantly woozy, almost laughing. 

“Psychic phenomena?” 

“Mmhm,” Krystal smiled. “It takes its toll on first timers, but you’ll start to perk up again soon.” 

They walked on, knowing they were not far from their prey. And the inevitable conflict. 

\----

Sharpclaw soldiers scaled the spire and worked diligently, unaffected by the altitude and the cold as they planted their bombs. Wicked looking looking things that when activated would drill into the surface of the rock until it reached its set depth. The light at its top flashing yellow as it whirred to life and burrowed into the old stone, a click as it locked into place and the light shifted to a dark red. Ready to be detonated. 

Dozens of Sharpclaw adhered themselves to various strategic spots of the spire, from its root all the way up to its tip. 

General Scales watched from below, unusually quiet. He had no need to begin barking out orders and there was no resistance to oppose him but strangely he felt unease in his gut. The words of the spirit haunting him. He knew well enough of the Mountain’s strange affect over those who entered it so he chose to believe it was just that. The unholy place playing with his mind and little else than that. 

He felt no remorse for what he had done nor what he knew he would surely do in the soon to be future. But the thought of failure in the face of all he had accomplished and all he had committed to get this far was an unacceptable and uniquely horrifying notion. 

“How much longer?” Scales asked, turning towards a bulky soldier in heavy armor. He held a datapad in his large hands and looked up from it, looking back once to assure himself the information was correct.

“About five standard minutes general,” he nodded respectfully and was grateful to be of use. 

“Good,” Scales said absently, his eyes moving over the walls and numerous pathways that both led into them and out of them. 

Instinct told him that this operation would not be without interruption and gestured for the guards to be alert. 

He had not made it this far by being lazy or stupid. 

\----

Coming up on an entryway Krystal quickly held her hand up in a silent gesture for Anya to stop. Both hunkered down and quietly planted themselves against the rock. Both took the time to steady their breathing, Krystal’s ears flattened out as she cautiously, slowly peered over their cover and into the clearing. Scales stood close to a megalith that Krystal was surprised to see and more so she was uncertain of its purpose, the dozens of soldiers crawling along the spire like lizards. 

She was relieved to see most of his forces were devoted to excavation rather than pure offense but she did note that there were at least a dozen armed guards keeping a keen lookout. Some patrolled close to the pathways that poured into the place, others stood still but kept their eyes focused on the entryways and the rocks that could be utilized as cover. 

Anya looked at Scales. Of all the Sharpclaw he was easily the most discernible. Jade green skin and a gargantuan physique. A terrible twin hook apparatus in the place of a left hand and demonic reddish yellow eyes that possessed a wickedness the other Sharpclaw lacked. She didn’t think the average Sharpclaw was stupid in the sense that they were completely inept, but there was an intelligence to Scales that deliberately separated him from his soldiers. His head shifted from side to side. Listening?

 _“Anya,”_ Krystal spoke to her mentally, _“try to go around to the other side as much as you can, I don’t want to risk the two of us being pinned down here.”_

Anya nodded.

 _“Be careful,”_ she murmured telepathically to her friend. Krystal smiled and nodded once, gesturing quickly that they must get moving. 

Of the two the vixen moved with more overt and instinctual grace, audible sound lost in her stealthy movements. Anya had to be much more deliberate in her actions but she found it became easy to maneuver past the guards. Too easy, her mind nagged. And she remembered the intelligence in Scales’ eyes and knew he suspected interference, even just as a precaution. She pressed herself against the rock, controlling her breathing as the heavy footsteps of two guards stomped by without much care. Her nose crinkled at the putrid scent of old meat crossed with a mixture of swamp like odor. It nearly made her gag. Evidently these particular Sharpclaw cared little for personal hygiene. 

Peeking up once she saw there was no suspicion of her presence and she continued to round to the other side. Humorously she wondered if it was because they couldn't smell anything other than themselves. 

Krystal kept herself concealed, staff drawn. This had to end here. Scales could not escape with that horrid weapon and wreak further havoc throughout the galaxy. Gripping her weapon she half stood, resting it atop the rock so it laid flat. Turning to the left ever so slightly so its tip pointed at Scales. Even if they couldn’t eliminate his fleet they could at least kill him and render the entire tribe leaderless.

 _“Ready when you are,”_ Anya spoke to her again in her mind. 

_“Ready. Hit them hard and don’t hold back.”_

Krystal breathed in deeply, once. 

A fireball loosed from the staff’s tip with a whooshing hiss. 

And to her shock in the span of time it had taken for her to fire Scales had seized a large Sharpclaw by the back; the saurian grunting in confusion and his datapad clattering to the ground as he was held up in the path of the fireball itself. Only a faint flash of recognizing what was happening to him flitted across his face before the fireball struck him in the sternum. 

Krystal’s mouth hung open in shock for several seconds. Scales sneering in triumph. 

“Bad move, Krystal. Open fire!”

Krystal ducked down behind her cover as fiery laser blasts pelted the rocks and smooth floor around her, she drew her tail over her shins and winced, cursing herself for not realizing Scales had known she was coming. 

With the armed Sharpclaw all focused on Krystal, Anya shot upright. And her shotgun fired with her. Flashes illuminated her in the already bright rays of the sun like stones struck together in the night.

Blasts pelted the soldiers from behind. Or clipped their shoulders or arms taking hunks of armor and meat and muscle off with them. Some dropped dead instantly and others tumbled over, yowling in pain. 

Scales was briefly confused when his gaze fixed onto the human woman. Burgundy hair appearing to burn like fire. She dropped down to avoid returning fire and Krystal took the moment to begin firing upon the remaining Sharpclaw. One, two, three, four down in less than seven seconds.

Seizing a heavy stone that led to the slab of the megalith Scales roared and hurled it at Krystal’s head. Yelping she dove to the ground as it pulverized into the wall behind her. 

Anya felt rage pump through her, searing fire empowering her from the depths of her soul. She didn’t care how many of them there were, no one was going to threaten or harm Krystal as long as she could stand. 

“Hey!” She hollered at Scales and not giving a damn if he properly turned to face her or not she blasted away. Scales bellowed as a shot pelted his side and the impact jolting him on his feet. A second hit him dead in the chest and he grunted, slapping his hand over the fresh wound in genuine surprise and pain. He glared and hissed spitefully at Anya and pivoted his body so the third shot harmlessly struck his shoulder pauldron. He hopped backwards to avoid the fourth and smirked when Anya visibly grew distressed and took cover again to reload. She swore savagely when a shell clattered to the floor and angrily snatched it up and shoved it into the gun. 

Scales lifted up the datapad his subordinate had carelessly dropped in wake of his death and was pleased to see the bombs could be detonated at a moment’s notice. 

Krystal charged him from behind and he narrowly avoided impalement through the spine. Scales hissed deeply at the sight of her and swiped at her head with his hooks. He lunged, his jaws clipping audibly as she snapped at her. Krystal was considerably smaller than him and he exploited it for all it was worth. 

He maneuvered his way around her with a startling swiftness and she immediately realized he had reversed the angles to effectively put her in Anya’s path. His tail thrashed with predatory intent. She jabbed at him with her staff and he deflected it with another swinging of his hooks. A clever attempt at disrupting their teamwork but it would take more than that. Krystal gracefully rolled to the side and another barrage greeted Scales. 

A round tore into his right side, ragged red leather hung from the injury and smoke sizzled. Krystal gave a battle yell and slashed, carving a deep cut into Scales’ chest. Green and black blood oozed from the injury and he roared, at last toppling over. The ichor running down the leather and into its crevices.

Krystal raised her staff above her head like a great huntress preparing to run through her ultimate prey that she had pursued and battled with relentlessly. 

Scales snarled in the back of his throat, a gravelly sound full of hateful bile. But still he smiled. Krystal had always found the sight of him smiling to be a disconcerting one. Compared to other Saurians it appeared unnatural. Very much like a fiendish demon stretching its muscles and skin back to emulate what it's warped mind interpreted as a smile.

A large, clawed index finger tapped a button on his belt buckle, a decisive low beep registering his action. 

Krystal’s eyes widened in horror as she realized with a great, cold dread that they were too late. 

“ANYA GET DOWN!” She cried in warning, louder than the Anya had ever heard her speak.

The first of the tremendous explosions erupted from the root of the spire, geysers of fire and rock soaring in a cacophonous frenzy. The Sharpclaw soldiers still clinging to the spire itself understood with horror in their last moments how little their leader cared for them. Why had they followed him to this, followed him to their literal last breaths? Some hurled themselves off the rock and cared not where they landed. The explosions ripped up its length faster and faster; even in the safety of the shield that Krystal had conjured with her staff she clenched her eyes shut and her ears flat against her skull. 

It had happened quickly and in those moments the grounds that had contained the frightful weapon only scarcely whispered about by even the most knowledgeable was littered with corpses and the forms of the dying. Rubble and small flickering tails of flame. Smoke hung in the air and Krystal’s eyes slowly creaked open. The green shield thin and weak now but from the rubble that surrounded her she could tell it had done its job. Staff still drawn she stood, no sign of Scales but she had no doubt he lived. 

“Anya?!” She called. 

“I’m here,” the woman stumbled through the smoke, shotgun loaded and ready, but the force of the explosion clearly left her dazed. 

Sadly their mutual relief was only temporary. 

Through the clearing fog of smoke they saw it. Not as tall as the spire that had held it overall, but nevertheless it loomed over them. 

A twelve sided pyramid. 

Each side immaculate and smooth, splashed lavishly with jagged runes that resembled monstrous shadowy figures. The sides all condensing into a pointed tip and the spots where the sides joined appeared sharp as a shark’s fin through the sea water. Anya moaned in pain as a strange buzzing of a malefic origin thrummed in her head worse than the explosions and her vision blurred. 

“Anya,” Krystal hoisted the woman against her shoulder, giving her a gentle but firm shake as she began to backpedal. Anya half lurched with her as she gestured with her chin at a pair of eyes fixed on them as organic spotlights. 

Scales laughed and charged them brazenly, knowing he had won this bout and as far as he was concerned: The war. 

Krystal grunted and yanked Anya with her to avoid those swinging hooks that arched toward them with a rabid ferocity. Through the smoke she failed to see the wall behind them and they bumped into it hard. Effectively cornered. 

One of the battleships had begun closing in further on the area, and Krystal had no doubt it would take that pyramid to Scales’ flagship. 

“You’ve lost Krystal,” Scales chuckled, enormously self satisfied in a prideful, almost gluttonous sort of way. It had been a very long time since he had tasted victory of this magnitude and it was sweeter than the freshest meat.

“Hold still and I’ll make it swift in spite of all the trouble you’ve caused me.“

Anya snapped from her haze in a moment of clarity. She deduced the pyramid and its proximity was wreaking havoc on her cognitive abilities but at Scales’ threat she fought through it unyieldingly. They were all in danger. 

“Fuck yourself!” She shouted and she felt pleased to see even Scales was taken aback by this second wind. Krystal covered her ears only milliseconds before Anya squeezed off a round directly into his abdomen and at a much closer range it actually lifted him off his feet, laid out onto his back painfully. 

Anya growled frustratedly as he managed to roll aside with a disturbing speed that should have been beyond him from taking as many rounds as he had. Roaring, he drew a knife that had been concealed in his belt and flung it at the woman’s head and only Krystal pulling her aside, urging her to come on saved her life. The gold blade lodged into the wall, twinkling in the sun. 

Scales watched them take off with a sour expression. His keen hearing told him reinforcements were coming and he immediately pointed them in the direction his hated enemies had scurried off to. They dare not inquire as to his injuries. He would live.

“Bring me their heads! They must not leave this mountain alive!”

\----

Krystal and Anya huddled up in the crevice of a ravine, barren, but small. Hard for large groups to pursue.

“Are you alright?” Krystal gasped out, leaning on her staff, fingers wrapped tightly about it. The air felt thick and cruel and even from where they had taken refuge they could see the ship beginning its work of lifting the pyramid. 

“I...uh, yeah,” Anya replied, checking her ammunition. “How the hell did we not take him down?”

“He’s enhanced himself through alchemy,” Krystal peeked out quickly, turquoise eyes darting about the shadowy ravine. “I thought for sure that together we could kill him...but there’s no time to dwell on that right now. We’ve got to find a safe place where we can call my ship and get out of here.”

Anya nodded. 

“He’s probably sent more of his thugs after us too.”

“If so, we can handle them.”

“Let me guess, he’ll blow up this entire mountain as soon as he’s back on board his ship with that...thing.” It was not a question but rather a blunt statement of truth. 

Krystal only nodded and beckoned her to come. They had to keep moving. Neither doubted that the situation had gotten worse but both remained determined to fight on regardless of what the future held in store for them.


	10. Chapter 10

Navigating through the maze-like paths of Warlock Mountain was proving to be more difficult and time consuming than either Krystal or Anya had anticipated. Everywhere they turned and glanced merely seemed to give way to another trail of confusion and large jutting rocks that resemble crooked, monstrous teeth. And when they saw the pyramid being lifted higher and higher into the sunlit sky it gave them a feeling of dread that threatened to escalate into despair. One of the enormous battleships had descended from the sky in a short time, making use of some sort of tractor beam to lift the abomination from what should have remained its resting ground. 

In terms of its size the pyramid was greater than any of those found on Anya’s home planet. Metallic and emanating a sick feeling of evil that made their stomachs flop. Tauntingly it was lifted higher and higher, its shadow spilling across the mountain like an inky stain. 

Anya panted from all the physical exertion but she willed herself to keep moving. 

Krystal drew her staff and wheeled around, hair swinging and the light rattle of her beads clicking together snapped Anya from her haze. 

“We’re being followed.”

As Krystal spoke they could both discern the grunts and deep growls from the Sharpclaw that pursued them so relentlessly. Deep breaths indicated they were quite literally being sniffed out. 

Anya dropped to one knee and her finger caressed the familiar trigger of her shotgun and a Sharpclaw who had peeked around the corner very nearly lost a majority of his head had he not managed to rear back in time. The shell leaving a pockmark in the stone wall adjacent to them. 

“Hold them off for just a bit,” Krystal implored, keeping her accented voice even as she held her staff to the sky. It glowed and hummed musically, calling out to her ship. There was no time to find a clear landing spot and they had to make due with the situation at hand. 

Anya nodded and without hesitation shot the first Sharpclaw who rounded the corner directly in the sternum. The beady yellow eyes bulged in the swift but cold realization that he had just died. His mace clattered to the ground and his body lurched forward two additional steps before clumsily landing face down. 

When the next group rounded the corner Anya was dismayed that they had gotten smart. From the narrowness of the ravine it was easy for them to huddle behind their number equipped with proper shields. They marched forward, sneering and growling. Shields raised and the shieldless hunkered behind them. 

Anya swore and fired again and as she expected found her weapon could not pierce their shields. And to the Sharpclaw that was blood in the water. One of them laughed and mockingly beat his ax against his shield and jeered in his native language. 

“It should be in a few minutes,” Krystal spoke, backing up simultaneously with Anya. Slowly, one foot methodically following the other. If they turned and ran outright the Sharpclaw would bolt after them and there would be no hope of survival. 

“I don’t know if we have a few minutes,” Anya’s voice wavered, defiantly ready to fire again but knew better than to waste precious ammunition. 

The pyramid’s bottom was beginning to ascend past the heavy clouds. 

“Trust me.”

Anya glanced over at the vixen and found her staff was already energizing into a flight boost. 

“Krystal wait you can’t be serious-,”

The staff rocketed her into the air and even the Sharpclaw were dumbfounded as to what she could possibly hope to accomplish...until they realized she wasn’t attempting to land in their midst! Her booted feet collided hard with a shield wielding Sharpclaw who had instinctively raised it over his head to defend himself. The loud banging of her boots landing on the shield reverberated with a force that made Anya twitch from its volume. Grunting mightly in effort Krystal used him to push herself off and into a graceful backflip and the combination of her impact and powerful shove was enough to send the dinosaur careening backwards into his comrades. And shatter their defensive position. 

Anya grinned and fired with something bordering on glee. A dark green skinned Sharpclaw fell dead and another yellow one followed. 

Swearing in Saurian one of the three remaining ax waving Sharpclaw rushed at Krystal, raising his shield to block a cleave from her staff and a sidestep put him out of the line of fire. Krystal swung in an obvious move and the Sharpclaw cackled as he, again, moved to block. Krystal smirked and promptly twirled and redirected her weapon in the blink of an eye and a burst of concussive energy sent him barreling into three of his brethren and effectively caused further disorientation among the ranks. The three pinned underneath his burly frame cursed and punched and slapped at him to get off of them. 

Another struck with his mace, his rapid swings forcing Krystal to evade rather than deflect his assault. A well placed shotgun slug to his side caused him to howl in agony and the vixen struck him over the head with her staff. 

Anya felt relief at being able to even the odds even momentarily but knew they would regain themselves at any moment. Her breath hitched in her throat as Krystal was backed into a wall and avoided an ax to her head by narrowly ducking. Considering her the bigger threat two more were running towards her to box her in. The room she had to evade heavy cleaves was quickly becoming distressingly smaller and smaller.

And the others were charging at her, eager to repay her for all the slugs that had been fired at them. 

The Sharpclaw winced when the tip of Krystal’s staff raked along his flank and he fought the urge to back away. But any wound would be worth it to finally eliminate their greatest enemy. Far from oblivious Krystal knew it was time to adjust to her situation. Her staff shortened to its portable, compact form. Gripping it firmly with both hands she yelled and swung it like a club hard into the Sharpclaw’s unguarded chin. Cerinian orichalcum when forged to perfection had a multitude of uses. It could be utilized for ranged combat, a slashing and stabbing weapon, defensive measures...and when compact could make for a truly useful club. 

Despite the metal’s incredible sturdiness she knew better than to aim for their armored bodies and to strike the more openly vulnerable parts of the body. The face being the most glaring weakness. Swinging again the staff’s angular head collided with a Sharpclaw’s eye and yielded a tremendous crunch. The soldier yowled and spastically stumbled about, the orbital bone that encased his right eye utterly shattered and his hands desperately covering his injury. Hissing and panting in a pained daze the likes of which he had never experienced.

With just enough space to spare Krystal sprung up and into a neat roll. A mace smashing into the space where she once was and chipping the wall. 

Anya yelped as she avoided a slash aimed for her torso and butted the green hued Sharpclaw in the nose with her gun. Before he could act further Krystal skewered him from behind. 

And at last her ship hovered above them. A slot in its underside opened and a ladder descended towards them. 

“Grab it!” Krystal ordered, whipping around his unleash a barrage of fireballs at any Sharpclaw soldier reckless enough to rush them. 

Anya slung her gun over her shoulder, squatted down and mustered as much strength as she had left and lept. The cool metal of the ladder a strong relief to her senses. Krystal jumped and grabbed the bottom rung as the ladder was retracted back into the safety of the ship automatically. Krystal muffled her own surprised exclamation as one Sharpclaw sprang at her and was just barely able to tuck her toned legs close to her body to avoid being pulled down into the remaining throng of bloodthirsty Sharpclaw.

The moment they were within the ship Krystal darted to the cockpit, gasping. Anya rested her back against a corner that she had dragged herself towards and it occurred to her she craved a long drink of water. The barely registered the ship moving as she fought to stay awake. At the moment she didn’t even think of the pyramid, only that if even for a few moments, they were safe again. 

\----

General Scales left the infirmary without a word, nor did the medic object. His enhanced physique guaranteed his recovery would be swift and he was pleased to know that the only two injuries that he had been left with that could be considered even partially noticeable was the wound dealt by Krystal’s staff and the shotgun slug he had taken to the stomach. But fortunately for him neither had come close to maiming any of his innards. He had changed his damaged and bloodied red tunic to one of black. It bore a dark red S splashed across the chest, the symbol of his tribe. 

He was not one to be whimsical, symbolism had been little more than a utilitarian tool just as everything and everyone else had...but he could not deny the powerful sensation that with the pyramid now in his possession that it was the blossoming of a new age. And as such, a new age required a new look. 

Briskly he walked through the cold, unfeeling corridors of the Titanosaurus and all the while he felt positively electricity. It bordered on childish excitement at the anticipation of getting to play with a new toy. 

A clawed finger insistently pressed the elevator button and in a mere five seconds the doors hissed open and a cool puff of air washed over his demonically grinning visage. As he entered he pressed a button on his button and the intercom in the elevator crackled to life.

“General Scales to bridge!”

“This is First Captain Das’Rahrkar, reporting sir!” A raspy voice spoke back. 

“Is the pyramid loaded as of yet?”

“Not yet sir no, but it will be complete within a few standard minutes.”

“Excellent. I’m coming up as we speak. Scales out.”

\----

In her turbulent rest Anya’s sleep was unlike anything she had experienced prior in her life. She could perceive her body in the material realm. And every surface, door and corner in the ship she was in at the very moment. But her mind’s eye saw something else. 

It was hot. And it was dark. She hovered above what was certainly ruins of some sort. Toppled pillars and engravings of people and places she had never seen in person. Surrounded by a lush jungle on all sides that expanded for miles and miles. She gasped, flinching in the harsh and sudden burst of flame from a great stone firepit that dwelt in the center of an altar. The fire shifted from orange, flickering and whispering in the night air and became a blood red haze. Like a great tongue emerging from the bowels of a Hell she did not want to imagine. 

Silhouetted against the glow, his eyes equally as red, was the unmistakable form of General Scales. Though in the sense that logic of the physical realm dictated she should not be able to hear his words, hear them she did. And the pleas of the Sharpclaw who was bound and on her knees before him. Her body was marred with cuts and one of her yellow eyes was sealed shut from swelling. Anya noted with disgust that half of her tail was missing and had been freshly and forcibly cauterized. But not for her benefit. 

Scales wanted her to feel as much pain and terror as possible. 

And Anya’s own voice whispered in her head: _“Black magic.”_

It hit her full force with an overwhelming wave of nausea and dizziness at what she was seeing. On earth it had a name and she doubted it was known by anything else on Sauria as well.

Ritual sacrifice. 

There was a unique kind of horror and disgust that stemmed from being in the presence of true evil. An evil so beyond the path of no return that it in and of itself had a way of altering the way one perceived the universe itself as much as a profoundly benevolent one could. Anya knew in her core that there were some beings in existence that were purely and simply evil. They had no true reason for their actions that amounted to anything more than selfishness. They could not be bargained with though this was not due to an absence of cognitive abilities. It was owed entirely to the fact they cared not for the lives they destroyed, be they members of their own kind, friends and family, or complete strangers that they would never know in any immediate way beyond the act they would commit upon them. Scales, and others akin to him could not coexist with anyone. It was a harsh, even frightening cosmic truth that many others would find abhorrent to admit the existence of. 

Though Scales spoke in a language that was not even Saurian but something far more harsh and guttural, something that was spat from his maw in a way reminiscent of convulsion. Tendons and muscles in his neck bulged and his eyes glinted in the fire light as hot coals. And to her horror Anya found that somehow her activated higher mind was translating this morbid tongue.

**“I will be as an evil voice on the wind! My will shall permeate the air and the skies above and trickle out among the infinite stars than shall all be taken into my fold! This is my will, this is my offering of blood! The power of a Krazoa spirit shall be mine to with as I will and as I please!”**

He raised the twin hooks of his left arm into the air with a deliberate pace. 

And when they arched towards his sacrifice Anya awoke. The wind howled in her ears as her very spirit was pulled back into her physical form. The world and the dimensions beyond the world a smear of colors. Earthy blues and whites, black, then flashing purple orbs in a tunnel that swirled and danced around her soaring frame with an air of reassurance. 

**“Awaken, Anya.”** The voice was the same as the one she had heard in the cave, reverberant and kind. In one single moment a transparent face of glowing purple flashed before her eyes and she knew that it was a Krazoa. 

Anya’s hands trailed over the smooth floor of the ship and when she lifted her head and gazed down she saw her own reflection staring back up at her. Confusion in her eyes that was sparkling into clarity. 

“Awaken indeed.”

\----

General Scales watched with an unblinking intensity as the pyramid locked into place beneath the Titanosaurus vulture-like bridge neck. The claws holding it in place and hundreds of locking mechanism thrumming and clicking in flawless unison. A hum echoed throughout the ship and a burst of light as bright as they had first seen when they had hatched and gazed up at the sun for the first time made them, Scales and crewmember alike, turn away. Even then the light pressed past their clenched eyelids as the pyramid was sealed into place. The light receded, sucked back in as one breaths in a gust of cold air. 

General Scales smiled again.

“Shall we commence firing sir?”

“Firing?!” His voice was so loud it made the bridge crew jolt and many of them feared a temperamental outburst until they realized with a sense of surrealness he was speaking in a positively jovial mood. 

“Oh we can do so much more than simply fire a glorified laser now.”

“We...can?”

Scales’ smile appeared so frighteningly and impossibly wide that it seemed to split his entire face. 

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

\----

Krystal eased the ship into a slower pace, leaning back in her chair and exhaling deeply. She’d begin trying to establish radio contact with Mari but still the fur on the back of her neck prickled up as the incessant feeling of something was about to happen. Her fingers tightened on the yolk in frustration. They could have stopped Scales back on Warlock Mountain. Ended the whole damn thing! She could have stopped it all and now the entire situation had only gotten worse. 

She breathed again. She was being too hard on herself. Krystal had always taken the welfare of others quite seriously and after everything that had happened she had bore the entirety of her responsibility alone. Her right ear twitched at the sound of Anya slowly, achingly, sitting down in the passenger seat. Her lips formed a quick smile as she recalled the fact that she was no longer alone. She did not have to keep battling it all alone and nor should she. It eased her soul in a way it had not been relieved in a long time. 

“So…,” Anya spoke, clearing her throat afterwards to eliminate the dry croak in her voice. “What happens now.”

“I’ll radio Mari soon. We’ll rendezvous with them and hopefully we’ll be able to convince your military to aid us in this fight.”

“I’m hoping they will.”

“Would they be inclined not to?” Krystal inquired, genuinely curious. She had probed Anya’s mind when they had first met to learn her language but she had not taken the time to learn much about human’s as a whole. The colonists as a whole had been kind to her barring a select few. 

“Human government isn’t exactly…,” Anya paused, in any other situation Krystal’s innocence, from the tone of her voice to the confusion on her vulpine face would have been adorable but she could find no humor in the situation. 

“Human government isn’t what one would refer to as honest. And that’s putting it politely. Very politely.Frankly it’s a wonder our species even made it this far.”

Krystal only looked more confused.  
“I’ll spare you the misanthropic tirade,” Anya smiled, oddly managing to find humor in the moment, her fingers squeezing the armrests of the chair. “But don’t be surprised if it takes some persuading.”

“I think you’ll find I can be quite persuasive,” Krystal grinned playfully, her tail tip brushing the floor with a whisper. 

Reaching towards a cherry red switch she flipped it up and adjusted a little black nozzle button that had been concealed beneath it. The transmitter buzzed as it searched for the proper frequency. 

“Hello? Krystal, Anya is that you!?” Mari’s voice spoke excitedly at them over the airwaves. Her cheery tone a much needed stress reliever. 

“Yes, it’s us. Present and accounted for,” Krystal replied, her fingers deftly flicking two additional switches and her eyes flitted to her radar. Triangulating her position. 

“You guys alright?”

“Alive. Sadly...we were unable to prevent Scales from escaping.”

“Yeah, I saw something going down over at that creepy mountain,” Mari’s tone became serious and the faint rustle of bushes and the rolling of tires crunching over weak foliage ambiently chorused under her voice. “Did you at least see what it was so we know what we’re up against?”

“A pyramid,” Krystal replied gravely. She steered the ship to the left and set forth in a new direction, the signal for Mari’s communicator a blip on the green radar screen. 

“A pyramid?” Mari echoed. “Well shit do we know what it does?”

Light that was not the sun touched the upper portion of the window and Krystal winced from the unexpected intensity and her alarm systems began to beep and screeched in a mechanical, panicked frenzy.

“I think we’re about to find out,” Anya murmured, fingers gripping her chair’s armrests so tightly her fingers all but pierced into the leather. 

“Hold on!” Krystal shouted and increased her ship’s speed, the engine roaring once at the intensified velocity. The jungle transforming into a green and brown smudge beneath them. 

The purple light that fell from the sky could have been mistaken for a star. Radiant but quite the distinct opposite of anything heavenly.   
It fell towards Warlock Mountain and exploded into a void that swallowed the mountain and the land surrounding it piece by piece. The ancient mountain broken and torn violently to pieces within moments into little else than chunks of rocks and grounded pebbles, trees pulled in and shredded with the stone indiscriminately. The entropic act expanding for miles, organic or inorganic, was irrelevant. In fact, in that moment it was all the same to the void. 

Krystal felt her eyes well with tears and she actively fought down the psionic resonance of the sheer terror and pain those who were living experienced as they were pulled in. They felt the indescribable agony for only a few microseconds but that was more than enough. The mystical void swallowed it all before enveloping them and in a powerful implosion, obliterated it all. 

Warlock Mountain and the half the jungle that surrounded it was gone. Just gone. And hundreds of animals. Dirt, rocks, water. Gone. Only a dark pit left in its wake. 

Krystal wiped her left eye of a stray tear and wordlessly Anya stood up and gripped the yolk with her, looking at her once and then away. Unsure if she should look at the vixen for the moment. 

Psychic capabilities frequently worked both ways. Krystal’s abilities had granted her extraordinary perception. Both of the wondrous and the beautiful, the profound and the sweet. But so too did it, in moments such as this, allow her to experience the pain of destruction. Even with all her last minute mental guards it had still leaked through. 

She was grateful for the touch of Anya’s hands over her own. The last time she had experienced something of this caliber she had been alone in the blackness of space. 

She held onto and cherished Anya’s light as Anya held hers.


	11. Chapter 11

The sickening feeling in Krystal’s stomach lingered painfully and she dare not look back at the pit left in the wake of Scales’ attack. She was steady enough now to pilot her own ship unassisted once more and kept her turquoise eyes focused ahead. Anya sat, cheek resting on her fist as she troubled over whether to ask if Krystal was alright. She clearly wasn’t so she wrote it off as a stupid inquiry to make out loud. And she wanted to ask about the...vision she had received. She knew as sure as she was sitting here that that was precisely what it was. Not a dream. 

_“And why the hell am I taking this so easily?”_ The existence of metapsychotic abilities within herself was undeniable at this point but where to go from here? 

“We’re going down now,” Krystal spoke slowly but with a measured tone. A wide clearing welcomed them into its grassy fold and being among nature again put her at some ease. Not enough to alleviate the drained feeling that oozed in her veins like tar but her head felt less clouded. 

Anya sighed.

“I know this is stupid to ask, but are you alright?”

“Well enough to keep moving,” Krystal murmured carefully, not wishing to answer bluntly as she knew Anya’s concern was sincere. The ship eased down slowly and they were both pleased to see that the colonists were safe. Some obviously agitated and scared, but alive and unmaimed. 

“I know you have things to ask Anya. But I must ask you to be patient.”

Anya wet the corner of her lips. 

“Fair enough,” peering out the window she could see Mari approaching at a brisk pace, her brunette hair damp from the jungle heat. “Though I think we have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Quite.”

\---- 

The bridge crew had been shocked into a complete silence at the aftermath of what had happened to Warlock Mountain and much of its surrounding area. There were many types of reactions when faced with true power. Horror was often the most prevalent. The catatonic shock birthed from realizing the powers you dabbled with were frighteningly real and far greater than your imagination could conceive of. Others began to feel an overwhelming awe. If this was the might of the pyramid and just one Krazoa spirit then they could not resist beginning to envision what they could do with all of them! 

Scales only laughed. Initially it had begun with his head lowered and his shoulders shaking as though he were seized by convulsions; and several soldiers feared that the weapon was not satisfactory and all the gruesome consequences that would entail until a booming laugh had erupted from his mouth. He laughed so hard he became short of breath and nearly doubled over. A cruel, triumphant cacophony of noise that felt unnatural in its volume and hubris. He placed his only organic hand on the glass and looked his ghastly grinning reflection in the burning embers of his eyes and turned to his subordinates. 

“You see my followers? This is the kind of power we wield now! Look upon the end results and know this is the fate of all that dare to oppose us!” Even in the altitude of space they could see the gaping crater clearly. A great black void that would forever mark the planet’s surface. Scales mused how lovely it would be to mark every planet with that and found it disappointing that such an ideation would remain a fantasy. 

For now. 

“Set a course for planet Sauria. We have…,” he trailed off with another frightening smile, “unfinished business with the other tribes and more spirits to collect.” His claws tapped his hooks rhythmically and he turned his face towards the ceiling. 

“The spirit does not say?” Scales queried aloud brazenly, inviting the spirit to challenge him. His arms spread and tail lashing over the cold metal floor that reflected him distortedly. No one dared send questioning or disturbed glances his way. 

He was satisfied with the silence. 

\----

“So I take it lizard boy has that...whatever he was after now?” Mari asked seriously after relinquishing both Krystal and Anya from her tight hug. The grass reached just past their ankles and was still. The unnerving silence strangely, if not mockingly unbroken in spite of their voices. 

“It’s a pyramid of some kind,” Anya replied, glancing at Krystal she could discern the vixen was in no real mood to speak much and she could not blame her for that. “Twelve sided.”

Mari cocked a brow and wiped her forehead of sweat. 

“Will he try again?”

“No. Foolishly but to our benefit I’m certain he believes us to be dead.” Krystal spoke at last. She shifted her weight to her right leg and her tail twitched. “I have no doubt he’ll be returning to planet Sauria.”

“Whatever for?” Anya blinked, aghast. “He’s got the ultimate power he craves now and he wants to go back to where he started?"

“Revenge. That and,” Krystal shut her eyes and breathed deeply, “ to ‘collect’ the rest of the Krazoa spirits.”

Mari let out a puff of air and dug the toe of her boot into the soil between the blades of grass. 

“Please tell me you have good news?” Anya said. Internally she winced at the thought of obviously trying to bring some ease to their minds with a such a clumsy and transparent question but right now she felt it was important to have at least one counter to the increasingly dire situation.

“Yeah, our rescue transports should be here at pretty much any time now. They really stepped on the gas this time around,” Mari smiled. But her thoughts went to how quickly things had changed in such a short span of time. One man goes missing and Anya finds out he was killed by dinosaur men and finds a blue vixen bringing the news that a tyrant is coming in search of a secret weapon buried in a mountain. 

_“I could write a novel about this,”_ Mari thought to herself and restrained the urge to giggle as now was really not the time nor place for it. 

“That’s good, at least,” Anya sighed, tiredly eyeing the shade provided by the enormous blue leaves that hung invitingly from the countless tree branches. Wordlessly both she and Krystal proceeded over towards them, there was no sense in waiting while being burned by the unforgiving sun. Which in light of Warlock Mountain’s complete obliteration seemed actively angry at every single living being on the planet and was hellbent on cooking them all alive. But they were determined to find some sense of quiet harmony again.

The blue of Krystal’s fur and the hue of the leaves were not identical in exact shade but at a passing glance she almost appeared to bleed into them; and Anya realized that had likely been one of the reasons she had seemed relatively at ease about not being detected by a predator while navigating her way through the jungle itself. They sat in privacy, away from the others. 

“Krystal.”

“Hm?”

“When...shit I’m not sure how else to say this but...when I passed out back there I...had a vision.”

Krystal’s left ear twitched and she peered at Anya from where she stood, her back propped up against the bark and she paid little heed to the water dripping onto her shoulder. Alert and now curious. Anya shifted in her place, sitting down in contrast to Krystal’s standing figure. 

A few weak beams of sunlight peeked through the leaves casting a halo of light on Krystal’s head and causing strands of Anya’s hair to glow like fire.

“Tell me,” she instructed gently. Awakening of psychic abilities in a race that widely disbelieved in such notions and were therefore unprepared to deal with what it entailed was never an easy situation. As a Cerinian she had been trained from early childhood to manage her powers and to develop them at a natural pace. Such was not the case for Anya. It was not thrust upon for if she did not possess the intrinsic ability it would never manifest in the first place. But even so Krystal knew it could quite potentially be overwhelming. And all things considered she was taking it with an admirable stride. 

“I saw Scales. It...it m-must’ve been a flashback. An event that already happened,” Anya paused as Krystal steadily lowered herself to eye level. Visions of the past were not an unheard of event. 

“He was...binding that Krazoa spirit through-,”

“Ritual sacrifice,” Krystal finished, her eyes widened slightly at the horror her friend had witnessed and empathetically rested her hand over hers, squeezing comfortingly. “The Krazoa must be trying to communicate with you.”

“Or jumpstart my...abilities, for lack of a better word. By why show me that?” Anya asked with distaste on her tongue. She understood Scales was evil beyond any reasoning but to commit acts of torture and sacrifice was an entirely new level Anya had never considered. 

“So you understand the full scope of what we’re fighting,” Krystal murmured, looking off into the distance. A droplet landed on her forehead, adjacent to the crimson gem that was the centerpiece of the beads that adorned her head. If she noticed she paid it no mind even as it trickled through her fur and down her cheek like a tear. 

“Ritual sacrifice and black blood magic are among the vilest things a living being can practice,” Krystal said, adjusting her legs slowly as she chose her words. 

“So that means he had magical power too?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, the type of magic he employs is parasitical in its nature. It can only take, and in this case there is only so much to take. It’s power is fleeting but, in the moment, strong.” 

Anya blinked her brown eyes once. Calm, even to her own surprise. She had always possessed a knack for learning about what the majority would term as “fantastical” with an interested nonchalance; but at the moment even she was taken aback by her stoicism at what she had just heard and the grander implications of it all. 

Krystal did not speak again for a minute. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply another droplet landed on her lovely muzzle and with its impact she concentrated her clarity on it. Serene as crystalline pure water from divinity itself. 

“There are powers in the universe that even now not many are willing to acknowledge. It causes them to question their entire sense of perception.”

“Of themselves?” 

“Of everything.”

A droplet landed on Anya’s arm, trickling with a slow deliberate method to pool at their joined hands. Trickling between their palms.

“You seem comfortable with these ideas.”

“So do you,” Krystal noted, her tail swaying thoughtfully.

“I’ve, uh, always been comfortable with things that are considered beyond people’s scope of thought. I think to a degree you have to be to travel space.”

Krystal smiled softly, feeling tired and wanting very much to sleep. Wanting today’s events to be yesterday’s. 

In the shade and away from death and the chatter of others the tree they sat under had become a small island of tranquility, if only for the time being. Krystal entered a dreamless state of rest and her lips formed a delicate smile as water continued to drip neatly down onto her head. The faintest rays of sunlight illuminating her fur and the beads of water twinkling like a display of tiny stars that was timeless in familiarity. 

Anya felt her own eyelids grow heavy and lethargy began to pool into her body with the sweet promise of a quick rest. She momentarily wondered how she could possibly find sleep with the fact Scales had acquired his frenziedly sought after superweapon, but in those quietly darkening moments she had the distinct thought that everything would be alright. As long as there those with the will to keep fighting on. 

And with that thought in her mind, reprieve from the waking realm was heavenly. 

\----

Mari took a deep gulp from a bottle of water before twisting its cap back into place. She sat in the command jeep, her leisurely posture at complete odds with the information she had gathered. One long leg dangled out of the open door, swinging lightly back and forth in a rhythm only she knew. From her perspective it was best to try and enjoy life whenever she could. Finding the silver lining in situations had always been one of her strong points and even then sometimes it was best just to feel something. Anything at all. Experience was enough and that was liberating in the face of anything and everything.

The radio crackled with a static hiss that was was oddly animal like in its insistence.

“This Mari, what’s your current ETA?”

“About one standard hour and thirty minutes,” a dutiful but equally neutral voice responded. Without a face to put to the voice to it was more akin to a ghost in the machinery itself. 

“Good. Over and out.”

Settling back in the sticky leather seat Mari pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose in a reflexive fluidity of motion. Looking up at the clear sky she was reminded of the late summers of her childhood. She’d moved around a lot in her childhood, owed in large to her parents involvement in government work and being the new girl and a half British and Japanese girl at that she’d learned to make friends quickly and easily. And in regards to her previous work the apple had not fallen far from the tree. 

She found herself thinking fondly of the afternoon calls of the birds and the insects of earth. Tall grass swaying and the sensation of life all around and flourishing. 

She didn’t think about Scales or his demented goals for the universe. In her time she’d met a number of evil people and worked with those whose morals were, at best, dubious. And she had always done whatever she could to ensure they failed in any way possible. Even if only a little. 

But even she could admit that in the long run it had become tiresome. To face evil again and again but always with a different face took a strong toll on her soul and instead had rerouted her goals to assisting in the age of space exploration and expansion. 

Mari felt compelled to laugh quietly to herself at the irony. Here she was, light years away from home and away from the physical marks of her history but still the spirit of her previous occupation and escapades had found her again. 

It was a surreal thing. Varying from beautiful, scary or sardonically humorous what concepts followed an individual in their lifetime. Anya had told her that after they had become friends. And Mari did not find it inaccurate. 

Like both Anya and Krystal she too was having some distinct clarity while staring into the sky, leg swinging back and forth in the heat. Scales would fail as many would be tyrants making a grasp for godhood had. It was one of the oldest themes that had followed life itself. Light versus dark.

And, if she could, she would play in part in making sure the dark fell once again.


	12. Chapter 12

Krystal felt herself slowly being pulled back into the waking world, the place the majority termed “reality.” Stirring from blissful, ethereal rest and into the jungle once more. Blearily she rubbed her turquoise eyes awake with her free hand, remembering her other still gripped Anya’s. The touch a reassuring presence to awaken to. For Krystal it had been an agonizingly long time since she had felt comforted so effortlessly upon awakening. Her hair was wet from the dripping water still and for a moment she counted each drop. One, two, three, four. Beads of moisture that in and of themselves could have been tiny planets glittering in the sunlight and illuminating her hair with a pleasing slickness. 

The quiet moments born from waking up and experiencing the beginnings of a new day were scarce and trickled away like water between your fingers. Before memories returned and reminded you of what you must face in waking life. Krystal remembered now. Scales. The pyramid. The annihilation of Warlock Mountain. Cerinia. 

Looking over at Anya now she decided it would be time to tell her of her history soon. They had known each other for only a few days but trust had come easily between them and that was something neither would take for granted. 

Gently she bumped Anya with her shoulder, prodding her awake carefully. Her brown eyes fluttered awake and her grip on Krystal’s furred hand tightened cautiously before she understood all was still well for the time being. 

“They here yet?”

“Soon, I’m sure,” Krystal smiled, stretching her long legs out and soothing her tired muscles. 

“I hope. I’m tired of this planet,” Anya muttered, rubbing her left eye. She had already long been fed up with the planet and its incessant heat and nigh impenetrable jungle and the conflict with Scales had only magnified that already strong distaste. 

Krystal hoped they would come soon too. They needed to start moving, and quickly. There was no telling how soon Scales could reach Sauria now and it revolted her to think of him imprisoning the other Krazoa spirits. His cruelty which already knew no limits always seemed to grow more relentless and depraved in all encompassing megalomania. A void determined to take everything into itself and destroy what it could not. She knew Scales considered all life that resisted him to be an affront to existence and on the other end she regarded his very own existence an obscenity to all that was good and beautiful. For all those that strived for something higher in their lives she would not allow him to continue to threaten all those amazing possibilities.

She relaxed herself by again counting the water beads that trickled onto her head. Focusing her mind keenly and melding it with emotion rather than allowing one to overwhelm the other.

As if on cue, a large shuttle descended from the sky. Though it was designated a shuttle it was clearly large enough to be labeled a space faring vehicle with a holding capacity in the higher triple digits. More than enough to rescue and hold all of them. As a stark contrast to the cold colors of the Sharpclaw fleet the shuttle itself was surprisingly colorful. Adorned in bright red and deep blues, tubular in shape and ball like cockpit for the pilots. 

“Emergency rescue colors,” Anya murmured. Such colors had long been a staple of vehicles intended for rescue. For colonized systems it made them quickly identifiable lest there was no time for the identification process. 

A dozen landing legs emerged from its underside and with their number combined with the shuttle’s profile it humorously resembled a gigantic, metal caterpillar. The ground trembled mildly at the touchdown and seeing it at such a close proximity made Anya understand why they had had to search out such a large location for them to land. 

“Is it with the human military?”

“Sort of,” Anya replied, watching as the engines powered down. “It’s more of a joint collaboration between medical and rescue organizations with the military. If we ever stumbled across an advanced, sapient race we’d rather not have them misconstrue a fleet of military ships as an invasion force, right?”

“Ah,” was all she said. Feeling rather amused at the ship’s odd build. Though it was certainly non-aggressive looking. Few would ever mistake it for an instrument of war. 

Doors closest to the cockpit of the ship leading to its main body opened, a hiss of air trailing after each and quickly a large squad of troops filed out; no doubt a precaution meant to guard against any lingering Sharpclaw aggressors. However Krystal deduced they had already moved on as Scales would never allow any vessel to pass his fleet and reach the planet’s surface. Rescue or otherwise. And if there was a rescue ship, there was a military fleet not far behind. They were armed with ARK-201s and sporting sleek body armor that was a strong, night time bluish black in color. Krystal detected from Anya’s mind that this armor’s color could be altered for camouflage with but a simple twist of a switch and that the color she saw now was merely its default. Already they fanned out wordlessly and formed a carefully guarded perimeter. They wore other standard issue weapons. Side arms, knives. Krystal cocked a brow at one soldier brandishing a rocket launcher bearing six points of firing. Certainly not a weapon one would bring if the situation was not being taken with the utmost seriousness. 

Last to emerge was a woman who’s appearance was a stark contrast to the men. Her hair was redder than even Anya’s, her obviously personalized crimson uniform impeccable and she had striking blue eyes. Fit and tall and clearly with an air of unquestioned command among those beneath her in rank.

“Hey there, Highness!” Mari called, stretching out the “hey” of her greeting out by several letters and waving from the distance as she approached. Krystal could have sworn the other woman’s eye twitched at the nickname. 

“Must be one of Mari’s old military friends,” Anya suggested.

“Are you certain they’re friends?” Krystal asked with sincere innocence, tilting her head and flicking her right ear. “The other woman doesn’t seem pleased.”

“Mari likes to push her buttons, apparently.”

\----

“Are these all the survivors?”

“Yes, several are barely alive and two have already passed from their wounds,” Mari responded in a rare moment of genuine severity. She’d done everything in her power to keep them alive but there was only so much limited medical supplies could accomplish in the face of grievous bodily harm and maiming. 

“Start loading everyone on board, now!” The captain ordered, wasting no time. Her most direct subordinate nodded in affirmation and the other troops followed his lead of calmly guiding the survivors aboard the metal sanctuary of the shuttle. A methodically rehearsed series of actions that had become second nature to them.

The captain momentarily regarded Krystal from a distance, openly bemused at the sight of an extraterrestrial in the form of an anthropomorphic vixen. And a stunningly beautiful, blue-furred one at that. 

“Did you manage to secure the you know what?”

“Hm, yeah, yes I did,” the captain glowered at Mari now, poking her in the chest with a finger. “And you owe me big for that one! General Destine looked like she was about ready to pull my head off when I told her you wanted that!”

“General Destine looks at everyone like that,” Mari rolled her eyes and playfully punched the other woman’s shoulder. “So long as she got it done, that’s what counts.”

“Not without pulling an assload of favors, she didn’t,” the captain glared. She huffed before speaking again. “Do you really think we’ll need it?”

“Probably. Just a hunch. I take it the general will want a report.” 

“Immediately. From you, the alien and that woman.”

“Fun,” Mari sighed facetiously. That was one thing she had never cared for in regards to any job she had had over the years: Reports.

\----

Krystal ducked her head with a natural poise as she boarded the shuttle, already she saw quite an assortment of eager colonists taking their seats. Her black nose twitched at the clinical scent of the ship itself and found its interior far less colorful than its exterior. The walls were a deep gray and coldly industrial in appearance. Black leather seats that moaned obnoxiously when one sat in them. The lights had been turned up in intensity so medical staff could properly inspect the wounded as they were rushed hurriedly to a more private location in the ship. 

Krystal felt her tail brush Anya’s leg as they progressed down the aisle and found some vacant seats. Easing themselves down the length of the available leg space before planting themselves into the black leather cushions. 

“What about your ship?” Anya asked, suddenly remembering Krystal’s vehicle. 

“I’ll call it once we get settled aboard the command ship,” she replied easily, propping her head against the headrest, grateful that it was at least somewhat comfortable. She ran her fingers over her staff in thought; drowning out the din and timber of voices in a condensed space came easily for her and she was tempted to sleep some more. However she deemed it best to resist the urge. There was still work to be done and it would be beneficial to have her thoughts collected and ready if need be. 

“Can’t wait to get off this fucking planet,” Anya grumbled, stretching out her legs and making it quite clear from her body language that the row they sat in belonged to them. No exceptions.

“And I can’t say I blame you,” Krystal agreed, an ear flicking. “But if other planets aren’t quite your speed, then why do it?” She asked, seeing an opportunity to know her only human companion better. 

Anya shifted once. A majority of the time she considered such questions invasive to the point of causing her genuine discomfort. But she found with Krystal such barriers were nonexistent. 

“I like space. I know it has things in it that can be terrifying,” Anya spoke, selecting her words with careful concentration. The same sort of concentration used in sewing, where every movement called for precision and the slightest deviation led to ruin. “Feels more like a home that earth ever did.” 

Krystal looked at her contemplatively. 

“I can tell. I sensed a wall between you and the colonists.”

“Most people don’t feel real to me,” Anya said in a removed tone. An impassively delivered factual statement in a similar manner to a doctor revealing a medical condition. “Even when I try there’s no anchor. Something just isn’t there.”

The shuttle rumbled as the engines fired up, and Anya fumbled with the seat belt momentarily as trees outside painstakingly passed up as they slowly rose into the air. 

“And when you’re in space you feel content?” 

“Something like that. I feel like I’ve been called out here for a reason.”

“Hmm,” Krystal breathed out in a sensation of great familiarity, even allowing herself to smile. Her smiles always complimented her beauty and emphasized her compassionate heart. “That sounds very...familiar.”

Anya cocked a brow and turned to face the vixen fully. There was a unique feeling to the notion of something cosmically aligning and being conscious of it. 

“How so?”

“You feel…,” Krystal paused, still smiling but eyes clearly in thought as she probed for her next words. The ship climbed higher and higher into the sky, landing legs easing inward.

“I feel like I’ve known you for my entire life.”

"Déjà vu?”

Anya almost giggled at the perplexed expression on Krystal’s face. Her curiosity manifested in a way that was endearingly wholesome. An earnestness to learn new things and wondrously unmarred by cynicism. 

“That you’ve lived through this before.”

“Yes. Yes I suppose so.”

Peering out the window the trees, so immense and all encompassing were small now. Blue-leafed dots on the ground. The shuttle circled around to face the direction it needed to go like a compass needle inevitably pulled towards the north. 

It was true. Both felt a profound, transcendent level of trust in the other that bordered on something far greater than a simple swiftly formed friendship. And if anything else went wrong in the universe they took great assurance that that would be their constant.

\----

General Scales sat in his personal chambers. Reclining in his ornate chair. All jagged and splashed with lettering precious to the Sharpclaw tribe for countless generations stretching on forever, its age was an eccentrically perplexing contrast to Scales himself. The room had little in the way of personal effects that could be in held as sentimental in nature. No pictures of loved ones nor even a vanity portrait of himself. What was there was little more than tools to him to further his grander agenda. Candles, knives, swords, old tomes and meticulously preserved scrolls and tablets he’d spent decades of his life hunting down with an unyielding ferocity. 

He sat comfortably in the dark. He rarely turned on the lights. The darkness of his quarters was one of the few personal leisure's he took that some could qualify as born from a nostalgia for home. 

His claws tapped his hooks and it was the only noise in the entirety of his dwelling at the moment. 

The incredible rush of newfound power had slowly, frustratingly ebbed away. His red eyes glared deeply and his brows creased irritably. Krystal still plagued his thoughts like specter. Fretting over the possibility that she was still living. She’d survived and overcome everything he had hurled at her before and each time more extreme than the last. In his gut he felt a nagging, distressing idea that their war would end with his death. He’d heard his soldiers chatting among themselves more than once their worries about her. That she was a warrior sent by the Krazoa or even the Saurian God himself to kill him. That she was invincible and would always pursue him until her mission was complete. 

He’d responded with that sort of talk by removing their tongues. Personally. But he knew the power of words and the ideas that generated those words. It was in their heads still as it was in the heads of those who had listened. 

Just as it was in his. Spilling in like oil.

He did not believe Krystal was divinely appointed but she absolutely fought him with the might of such an individual. Were it in his nature he would have regarded it as admirable but he awarded no such acknowledgments. 

Scales scolded himself and almost hissed. What did he have to fear!? He berated himself for his weakness. He wielded the power of gods themselves and yet he concerned himself over one woman? 

He eased back in his chair when he realized that so tense was he that his muscles had flexed and bulged in agitation. 

But even so there was no reason to not exercise caution. He smiled and a finger moved towards his belt. He twisted the large, heavy buckle until it clicked like a loaded gun. Then he pressed his clawed index finger into the centermost button. It blinked red thrice like a rapidly blinking evil little eye before it ceased. Telling him his commands had been received. 

Sauria would have quite a great deal to contend with before he even arrived. 

\----

Dragon Rock was the picture of what some might label a hellscape. Barren rocks and fire and ash. The ground sharp and inhospitable. So hot and seemingly laced with a conscious malice. Facilities constructed for purposes so impure residents outside of it were frightened to even whisper of it. The sun burned in the sky, glaring in helpless judgement through the obscene haze that hung in the air. 

Within the confines of the largest and most foreboding of the facilities, something awakened. 

The guards were jolted from their usual, almost casual patrol regiment when the artificial womb pulsed. A cold metallic color and shimmering unnaturally in the lights, reflecting them as bulging eyes that never blinked. It stuck to the wall grotesquely and tubes hooked into the wall like a colossal tumor that mocked organic life itself. A few Sharpclaw were tempted to fire on it but were quickly roared at to stand down. 

A split materialized on the liquid womb’s surface. Strands snapping away from each other with a vulgarity they had never seen as layer after layer peeled apart. A gelatinous bile gushed from the opening and spattered the ground and gave it a sickening, amorphous sheen. A foul aroma provoked one guard to vomit over the side of the railing. Their captain was struck by the sudden wish he had allowed his men to open fire to prevent the blasphemous spawning of the womb’s sole occupant. 

Drakor fell from the hollowed out womb and fell to the ground. Wings, legs and arms folded over himself like a monstrous infant. His first breaths rattling from his nostrils as his lungs automatically pumped and worked. Worked by machines that dictated his very breathing. 

Nothing moved. 

Drakor gurgled and coughed, spitting up more of the silver bile and it dribbled over the monster’s chin. He stood, footsteps resounding heavily over all that were present as he quickly found his balance. His body was more mechanical than saurian and had he not been awakened now and allowed to “sleep” longer he would have been entirely cybernetic. His left arm was little else than a large cannon and his entire upper body was armored. As were his legs and the bones of his wings. Horned and tall, he was built to kill. 

Drakor scanned his environment, wiping the silver bile from his chin and his wings shook the liquid free with a few dominating flaps. 

Drakor found his memory blank. He recognized nothing and no one in the building. Did he have friends and family? Had he been a member of the species that surveyed him a mixture of terror, fear and disgust? He felt something in that back of his mind buzzing with the truth that he did. That he had all that and more. He had had friends, family, lovers, a father, a mother, even children. But that was a thing of a past he couldn’t even fight to remember now. His brain told him only one thing: Follow the orders of General Scales. Nothing more and nothing less. 

He was built for nothing else. 

And in that sense many, were they were aware of this, would find it a mercy that whoever he had been before was dead. For if the intelligence and awareness of his old mind had the capacity to know any of this he would have found himself wishing for death and howled in unheard, desperate despair that his mouth would be unable to even beg someone to end his life. 

Drakor roared. Alive for the sole purpose of destroying the lives of others. 

\----

In a labyrinth where torches were the only light source a great door opened. Dust swirling in the air from its thunderous parting. The dust further disturbed by a tremendous, snarling exhale of oxygen that stank of carrion and hate. Beady, hungry red eyes flickered in the dark of what had moments ago been his accursed prison. They gleamed like candles on the surface of a lake. 

The Redeye King emerged from the confinement. Rising up to his full, towering stature and he relished at the freedom and the stiffness that was already departing from his muscles. His flanks brushing the walls of the labyrinth and he knew it was time.

When compared to other species of Sauria the Redeye King and his ilk were a relic. Beings of a primordial age without language and higher reasoning. An age where the sole concern was fighting, feasting and death. For reasons unknown the Redeye had never evolved with the others and whether they had deliberately chosen to remain as such or whether it was beyond their control no one could truly say. However, this was not to declare them lacking in intelligence. 

The Redeye King knew he had been imprisoned just as his kind knew they were leaderless. And the Redeye King desired revenge. Sweet, bloody revenge.

He inhaled deeply and with an intensified focus other Saurian’s would deem above a seemingly simplistic predator.

The Redye King roared from the depths of the labyrinth intended to be his prison and in the overall scope of things: his tomb. It shook the walls and resounded from the darkness and danced nightmarishly off the walls of the sleeping city that had dwelt above him the entire time. 

It was not a challenge, but a call. A call that told his tribe that it was time. 

And blood would decorate and welcome his return.


	13. Chapter 13

The command vessel of the assembled fleet was dwarfed in overall size by the Titanosaurus of the Sharpclaw Tribe in direct comparison, but even still in the vastness of space, compared to most it was gargantuan. A metallic whale in the sea of space. A bulky, heavily armored hull with the command bridge itself tucked into the ship itself like a bull necked behemoth. A rounded end with more than a dozen jets for propelling itself through space. The majority of its body reminiscent of the original vessels sent to space in the long past twentieth century. 

“We’re approaching now,” Anya peered out of the viewport beside her, Krystal inclining her head past her friend to inspect herself. It was unmistakably a military vessel and had hundreds of cannons to vouch for that and were Scales not in possession of a supernatural weapon she would have found it wholly reassuring. The vixen kept her mind calm. Collected and still as a lake surface on a motionless night but these humans were potentially in for a harsh awakening. 

The conflict had escalated to a status she had fought hard to prevent and it would take more than just enormous cannons and space naval warfare to solve it. 

“Impressive,” she murmured. Clearly humans were comfortable being armed. Heavily. But as she leaned back in her seat she thought her praise was a hollow one. The destruction of Warlock Mountain still replaying behind her closed turquoise eyes. 

Panels along the starboard side folded open one by one in a process that was equally mechanical as it was oddly lethargic to look at. The faint bluish white hue of activated shields protecting the crew from the seemingly endless black vacuum that awaited them. Anya knew there was technically no true sound in space, at least according to scientists. But even so her mind automatically could imagine the hissing of hydraulics, the whirring of gears and servos and the clicking and clanging of metal against metal. The deployment of the docking crew filing out as they must have hundreds of times by this point. Her chin rested on her fist as she envisioned it and given the heights her imagination could climb to she could all but quite literally hear it with the same clarity one hears a voice speaking in startling resonance in a previously silent room. 

Krystal steeled herself and knew there was more work to be done before rest. 

“You ready?” Anya asked, brushing a lock of burgundy hair out of her face. 

“Always.”

\----

The Redeye King rumbled in a predatory contemplation as he scoured the remains of the Walled City his kind had set upon with ravenous vengeance. Biting and tearing a bloody path through the unsuspecting Earthwalkers who had arrogantly kept him prison with impunity. Impunity until now. His maw was stained with drying blood and viscera and meat clung to his numerous teeth and for the first time in many, many moons his stomach did not ache for food. 

He knew not why his freedom had been orchestrated but he certainly was not about to raise objection. The early morning sun bathed the ancient and now ravaged structures of the Walled City in a warm halo that was at paradox with the corpses strewn about and the quickly mounting stench of death and carrion. Scavengers were already swooping down from the sky. Ugly, bat-like lizards cackling gleefully at the large and bountiful, and most importantly, easy meals. 

The Redeye King’s footsteps shook the ground with a ponderousness the city had not felt in a long time. Even among his kind he was a giant. Thirty feet tall in contrast to the fifteen foot average specimens of his species. By the standards of earth, the Redeye King dwarfed the Tyrannosaurus Rex; of whom he bore an uncanny resemblance to despite their respective homeworlds being light-years away from each other. A curiosity that would baffle earthlings. 

He raised his large head to the sky and his nostrils inhaled the increasingly warm air as the wind swept over. Snaking about the stone walls and stirring the grass in a manner almost sentient in its methodology. 

Fresh meat some miles away. Food. Revenge. 

The Redeye King now did not kill solely to eat. Historically, the leader of the Redeye Tribe had always been unusually intelligent, at least among his species. Killing out of malice was nothing new but the level to which it boiled in the Redeye King’s blood was new. He wanted to rip every dinosaur that was not among his ranks to pieces. Scatter their entrails and bones across every last surface of the planet and force them to regret ever imprisoning him. The audacity of the action alone warranted his wrath. 

He growled, his chest puffing out into a commanding roar that reverberated throughout and spoke to the very core of his kind. 

Follow. Or be left behind. 

He set off, feeling his kind beginning to follow suit. They were smaller in number in contrast to when the species was at its peak and there were others scattered sporadically throughout Sauria. But he was unconcerned. He had intuition to know well enough the other species would be unprepared for their arrival. If his face allowed for it he would have smiled. There was something amazingly satisfactory about a scream being snuffed out as his jaws clamped onto them. Rending flesh and snapping bone, feeling his prey’s inferiority before his undisputed might as the ultimate predator of Sauria. He especially looked forward to killing more Earthwalkers. The tri-horned dinosaur race his kind had battled against so very frequently over the countless centuries. The dinosaurs that had arrogantly thought him beaten and had possessed the rampant gall to make their treasured city his prison! 

The Redeye King’s tail swayed like a giant green serpent as he felt something akin to amusement flicker in his mind. They had imprisoned him in their city...and the results had been the opposite of what they were expecting. Their city had become their abattoir and Sauria would follow suit. If his kind had words as they were recognized by others he would have labelled it poetic. 

\----

Krystal had only just barely enough time to ensure her own ship touched down safely in the docking bay before she and Anya were ushered away to the command bridge. Many crewmembers eyed her staff as she reattached it to her hip, having never seen such a weapon. Clearly it was more advanced than they had ever anticipated and had no visible controls of any sort. She almost found it awkwardly humorous that here she stood, a fully sentient alien vixen with blue fur, yet they were more boggled by her weapon of choice than anything else. Others stared at her ship in a wonderment they had thought lost. How could she control it from such a distance? And how could a small personal vessel traverse that level of distance in a matter of minutes? Already many had begun to speak among themselves as their day had just gotten a great deal more interesting.

They were whisked away so quickly they had had little time to look about and drink in the sights offered by the bay. The dozens upon dozens of combat jets, constructed to resemble an old plane known by the populace as a “stealth bomber.” Sleek, first and foremost devoted to speed and aerodynamics. Wings tapering to a point and the noses each facing the exterior of space that lay beyond the shielding, ready to deploy at a moment's notice. The hundreds of bustling crewmen with their equipment. The rafters hundreds of feet up high with men and women dutifully at work. Some were taking a reprieve and watching the new arrivals and chatting in a comfortable camaraderie. Their mouths moved but from the distance they were at the sound would never even come close to reaching them. A robotically artificial feminine voice announced something over the intercom in a cold, smooth and bordering on hypnotic tone. It was almost disorientating to Anya how many of them there were and how much activity was occurring. 

Mari jogged after them for a moment to catch up, brushing a lock of brown hair out of her face and pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a finger. 

“Probably best if I come with you. General Destine isn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with.” 

Their escorts spared Mari a glance. Not necessarily one hostile in nature, but wary of speaking so freely about the fleet’s superior officer in such a brazen manner. 

“Oh you know I’m right,” Mari rolled her eyes. Despite the woman’s fierce reputation she wasn’t cowed in the slightest. She was difficult to get along with but she was hardly unreasonable. That and she was no longer part of any military branch and could say whatever she pleased. Not that that had ever truly stopped her in the end. Being special forces allowed one to get away with quite a bit. Sometimes a bit too much. One of the reasons she had quit, in the end. 

“Is she that fierce?” Krystal asked as the elevator doors parted with such speed it stirred each woman’s hair with a quick, mechanically cool breeze. 

“She prides herself as such and for the most part yeah, she is. But don’t worry,” Mari winked. 

One of the troopers pressed a button, the topmost. Anya sighed, briefly staring up at the immaculate ceiling and eyeing her own distorted reflection and grimacing at how tired she looked. At this point she very much wanted a shower and sleep above all else but she knew the importance of what they had to accomplish. And for Krystal. She’d seen the pain the destruction of the mountain and its surrounding area had caused her friend and the threat Scales posed to the universe and quite possibly beyond. He was commanding powers that no mortal had wielded in thousands upon thousands of years and that was a threat higher than any other at the moment. Krystal had her arms folded across her chest contemplatively, her expression unphased. She’d met aliens from many walks of life at this point. Anxiety never even flitted in her mind and her heartbeat was steady and composed as a preparing dancer. 

Mari checked her own reflection in the metal and respectfully stifled at least some of her amusement. 

“The general still runs a very tight ship I see. Does she still make you guys scrub things off with toothbrushes? She always favored archaic methods of punishment,” she never expected the troopers to answer but Mari was always one to find humor in the woman’s strict sensibilities and the fact that it had certainly not changed was even funnier to her. Currently she even found it endearing in an odd sort of way. At least there was one constant in the universe. 

The elevator beeped musically as it traversed up every possible floor that was listed as they drew closer and closer. Three, two, one…

The elevator dinged and the doors parted to unveil the command deck itself. Crewmen sat at their respective panel seats, hardly sparing even a sidelong glance at the new arrivals. Those who worked on the bridge were exclusively those who Destine herself found the most exceptional or, at minimum, the least grating on her patience. The troopers unanimously gestured with an outstretched arm to proceed with such fluidity it appeared rehearsed. Wordlessly the three stepped out and the doors behind them shut with the speed and precision of a gavel hammering its judgement. 

General Destine stood to her full height, previously having lowered to inspect some data readings from one of her troops on his respective control panel. Even from their respective distances she stood tall. Taller than even Mari at just over six feet. Her uniform black and flawless as the polished metal of the ship. Her hair was so red it resembled blood and was drawn neatly into a ponytail. Green eyes sized them up in practiced reflex. Subtle, but present. Seemingly indifferent but approaching curiosity when they passed over Anya and held Krystal in similar light. Outwardly nonchalant to the sight of what they classified as an intelligent extraterrestrial. A shade of annoyance flickered over her face at the sight of Mari and she restrained the urge to roll her eyes when the brunette had the audacity to smile wide, innocently and waggle her fingers in greeting. And here she had been enjoying her day so far. But, duty came first. 

They only began proceeding towards her when she took the first step. Their footsteps clinking across the floor as they met one another halfway and though they were surrounded by people, in what could be silently agreed upon as a neutral zone. 

Again, Destine raked over them now that they were closer. Then they locked onto Mari with the focus of a powerful magnifying glass held in sunlight. 

“Is this the alien?” Her voice was low and even rather lovely but held clear and concise strength. 

“My name is Krystal,” she spoke before Mari could respond. Krystal took no true offense at being labeled “the alien” as it was understandable and she detected no prejudice in either Destine’s tone or the timber of her thoughts and emotions; but she saw no reason to let someone else speak for her in this situation. Destine gave no indication she was taken aback by Krystal speaking or that she was even capable of it. But from the quick sidelong glance Mari gave Krystal as a result conveyed that Destine was not a woman that one spoke out of turn with. 

And currently, with as much respect as possible, Krystal didn’t give a damn. 

“Continue,” the general spoke, gesturing with a hand, face so far impassive. 

“A race of extraterrestrials has acquired, for all lack of a better term, a superweapon,” Krystal could detect her words held at least some impact but frustratingly not as much as she had hoped. “And they intend,” no that wouldn’t do, “they have already engaged in hostile action.” Krystal emphasized her words and she felt her right hand clench her bicep as the obliteration of Warlock Mountain played in her mind. 

“Such as?” Destine prodded almost flippantly. 

Krystal’s right ear flicked as she deduced Destine was testing them. Gauging how large she would personally deem the threat. They were only seriously taking into account the attack on the colonists. Though Krystal could not blame them entirely for being cautious and pragmatic as realistically a foreign planet and its respective nations would naturally wish to avert interplanetary conflict unless absolutely left with no other action. But Krystal knew damn well Scales wouldn’t stop with Sauria. His ruthlessness and hunger for dominion over life itself was unquenchable. It drove him forward with terrible desire. 

“Their leader ordered the attack hundreds of innocent colonists and his command is directly responsible for the murder and maiming of many,” Krystal’s tail swished, rings glinting under the stark and intrusive artificial lighting above their heads that burned like small electric suns. “And with the acquisition of that weapon attempted to murder both myself and Anya,” Krystal indicated the other woman with a darker shade of red hair in the room. Anya’s boot squeaked on the smooth floor as she shifted her foot from standing in one position for so long. “And annihilated an entire mountain to try and accomplish this.”

Anya swallowed once. She was unsure if Krystal’s words were getting through and she had a gut feeling that Destine would follow up with more questions so she interjected at the first opportune moment.

“I’d recommend having your crew scan the planet’s surface. Look for…,” she struggled to find the correct wording as Destine fixed her with a stare that could wither iron into frailty. 

“Look for areas that still have an unnaturally high energy signature and craters. Planet doesn’t have many of those so it should be easy to locate.” 

Anya resisted the now very tempting urge to grin as Krystal’s voice guided her mentally on exactly what to say. Hearing her voice reverberate in her skull was far less startling now and she found it enjoyable and reassuring. And giving her much needed assistance in the face of a hazy mind and exhausted body was an additional boon. 

_“Thanks,”_ she whispered mentally to the vixen, not taking her eyes off the general. Such unspoken contests of stares were ones of will and aversion of eyes was surrender and surrender in these bouts was weakness. 

_“Of course,”_ Krystal replied sweetly, never once giving any indication of the mental communion that had transpired right in front of over a dozen people with none of them having any clue that it had happened at all. Phantom voices that were beyond the physical. 

General Destine had the stare of an emerald-eyed tigress but in the face of all that she had heard, at last she relented. Her finely shaped lips spoke their orders. 

“Captain, begin scanning the planet’s surface. Check for any unusual energy signatures and noteworthy surface wounds that have occurred in under twenty four hours that are over two hundred kilometers in size.”

General Destine turned on her heel and walked towards the observation panel to ensure her crew found anything and everything that matched precisely what they were looking for. Krystal allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief, her legs suddenly feeling incredibly tired and the clinically stale scent of the room made her head feel oddly woozy. But still she felt herself smiling that she had accomplished something. It was better than nothing and in the face of a day marred by the enemy’s victory that put him astronomically closer to obtaining that which he craved above all else. 

A few moments passed before Destine stood back to her full height. Her movement and body language were neutral, but Krystal could sense the pattern of her thoughts and could tell that the resulting readouts got their point across. 

The general crossed over towards them, a much more severe look on her face. It wasn’t the first time she had experienced combative and potentially combative scenarios before, but the scans had yielded up unexpected results that were jolting even to her nerves. Though to all others she appeared as she always did. 

“Well, Krystal, you’ve made your point,” Destine relented, folding her arms across her chest as she set aside her pride for the moment. “Now what do you propose we do next?”


	14. Chapter 14

Anya sighed in strong relief as the warm water splashed her body, the rising steam and heat soothing away some of the aches in her muscles. Her hair now a darker shade due to the water’s touch. Sticking to her nape and shoulder blades; water traversed down her navel and snaked off her thighs to the marble smooth floor to be guzzled down by the drain. Nozzles on all sides doused her in every direction alongside the traditional showerhead. Military vessels placed high value on sanitation. They traveled space and though planets selected for colonization were thoroughly vetted for deadly alien diseases they clearly believed in the old proverb that it was better to be safe than sorry. 

Soap pooled around her feet before being swept away, frothy bubbles vanishing down the drain and into the unseen bowels of the pipe that traveled somewhere into the ship’s depths. 

She felt relaxed, all things considering. Perhaps inappropriately so. It appeared as though the entire universe was on a verging apocalypse and she had shot and killed multiple sentient lifeforms but she was certain she wouldn’t be losing any sleep. In catastrophic situations she had always prided her ability to remain stoic and collected enough to make the proper decisions and act accordingly. It had certainly proved its worth a dozen times over within the last few days. 

A pale hand extended to the panel to deactivate the nozzles and with a low, quiet beep the water flow ceased. Lingering droplets plopping in an aimless rhythm as she exited the shower. Her chest chilled lightly by the outside air and her reflection obscured in the mirror by the layer fog that now coated it. She smiled in brief reminiscence of leaving words and shapes in it that would return with the fog the next time someone showered. In the spur of the moment she swiped her fingers along the immaculate surface to mar the fog with slashes resembling claw marks. She rested her weight on her right leg, her eyes and face partially visible in the slashes as if her own face had been divided.

A puff of air and she knew it was time to get to Krystal. She was unsure if her friend would tell her what she had spoken of earlier before they came aboard the ship but even so she did not find it appropriate to keep her waiting. 

Snatching the unused, plain white towel off the rack she dried her bust, pleasantly surprised by the softness as she wiped away the lingering droplets. It was a swift process, only lightly drying her hair as she enjoyed allowing the air to naturally remove the moisture. Afterwards she donned a pair of black shorts that stopped very high up on her thighs and slipped on a plain dark green shirt. They were clothing articles unused by personnel for the time being so naturally they were rather plain for her tastes but she was exceptionally happy to be rid of the coveralls. 

\----

Krystal sat on the bed, legs criss crossed and her palms resting peacefully on her knees as she passively meditated. Occasionally her tail swept over the sheets with the silence of a ghost. She had no immediate focus in her mind, merely a tranquil silence blanketing her tired mind and spirit. She could feel the bed beneath her, its contours and the way her body sank into it and the creases in the sheets. The coolness that hovered over her blue fur. An ear twitched as the bathroom door opened and brighter light spilled across the floor and splashed the lower portion of the bed itself. A click and it was gone. Evaporated with the flick of a switch. 

Barring their own possessions the room had nothing personal about it. Blank black walls and a strong overhead light set to dim. It illuminated the room with the warmth of a campfire on a late summer night. There was only one bed as a majority of the other rooms were occupied or reserved for the injured. But in all earnestness neither was especially fussy about the number of beds. As long as they had privacy and comfortability. 

Krystal had been momentarily tempted to laugh at the crewman’s cocked brow when both Anya and herself had agreed to the first selection offered to them and found it even more humorous when he had awkwardly stammered out the room had only one bed to offer. Humans seemed to have an aversion to sharing a bed with anyone that was not a partner and even more so if the two were of the same gender. Cerinia had no such reservations and it was not uncommon for sleeping quarters to be shared among family, friends, and lovers alike and regardless of gender. 

And she didn’t mind. At the moment she valued the companionship. She missed her friends and family and the familiarity of Cerinian traditions. 

Her eyes opened and she felt herself fully return to the realm of the material and softly smiled at Anya. 

“You okay?” The woman asked, gently probing for the status of her friend’s wellbeing. 

“Better than before.”

“I’m glad Destine saw reason. Not that she strikes me as unreasonable, but Mari always made her seem like a complete hardass,” Anya smiled back exhaustedly and sat on the edge of the bed, smooth hand whispering over the blanket’s fabric. 

“In that regard I’d say she is, but she did not attain her position by being unreasonable.” 

“You’d be surprised. Plenty of people end up getting positions they don’t deserve in the slightest.”

“How so?”

“Nepotism. Kissing the right asses. Money…,” she trailed off, her thought slipping from her as she remembered how tired she was and she shook her head once to get herself into a state where she could focus on conversation. 

“Tired?” Krystal thought that that was a foolish question in an isolated setting but she wanted Anya to implicitly understand she had permission to sleep as long as she needed now. She was clearly the type to take an enormous amount on herself when she truly cared. 

“Yeah.” 

Krystal smiled gently, with understanding few beings in Anya’s life offered with any sincerity.

“It’s perfectly alright. Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“At this rate how many more tomorrows are left?” Anya almost laughed, rubbing her shoulder with a grim sense of humor, laced with the eerie potentiality of truth. For a moment she felt in the pit of her stomach the awkward lump of saying something she should not have voiced in all but the privacy of her mind. 

“There’s always tomorrow. We can assure it,” a touch on her arm and she was soothed. Wordlessly she sank back, fully ready to embrace the realm of much coveted sleep. Her head sank into the pillow like a cloud on a clear day and in mere minutes she felt her mind expand into the world of dreams and visions and absolute, blissful, sweet silence.

\----

General Destine faced the window of her private office, one leg properly crossed over the other as she contemplated. Scans of the planet’s surface had assuredly shown that what Krystal had said was true in regards to a massive burst of destructive power so great in calamity that even its energy signature was still fresh. And disturbingly enough there were no remains in its epicenter. No rubble, no trees, bodies. All that had been there was simply gone to a point where it may as well have never even existed at all. 

Stars glittered in their deceptive distance. The light she was currently looking at was already millions and millions of years old whereas its source was even further away than the light it sent out. And even older than that. The mysteries of space did little to intrigue her in any earnest sense. As a high ranking general of space exploration she was privy to many secrets that the public could only speculate upon wildly, if the even the conceptualization of such things even crossed their minds. She had rubbed shoulders with the shadier aspects of the government and its deeper military circles often enough she knew its ins and outs quite well. In that sense she was pragmatic. Doing what needed to be done to accomplish whatever respective goal she had been tasked with. Humanity achieving its dream of reaching the stars some two and a half centuries ago had thrown out simple black and white simplicity, in her views. But even then, she doubted she would have adhered to such limiting mindsets in the the first place. 

The door to her office opened with a snake-like hiss and in the pristine reflection of the window she saw Mari make her way in. Brunette hair still damp from an obviously recent shower. 

“You’re late.”

“I doubt you’d want me smelling like a literal jungle in your office,” Mari smirked, helping herself to a chair. She restrained the urge to giggle at the reflection of the general slowly rolling her eyes and an exasperated sigh accompanying it in the picture perfect visage of annoyance. Mari always liked Destine, even her irritability and no nonsense attitude. The very attitude that in her early days had earned her the rather specific nickname that most dare not say aloud lest it reach her ears. Mari found it humorous that Destine, in fact, enjoyed the name but naturally had to put on a show that she did not to maintain order in the ranks. 

Ranks that Mari had little care for. Even during her special forces days. 

“I have little patience for your alleged sense of humor, Makinami,” Destine swiveled around in her chair to face the other woman over the expanse of her desk. A metaphorical canyon between them. An authentic wooden one. Smooth and polished to the point of being as reflective as the window. Typically, desks on such vessels were made of metal as they took less effort to maintain and could simply be built into the floor itself. Destine had insisted on her chosen desk. To the majority she had always had rather archaic tastes and she vastly preferred it that way. In a glass case to her right was a medieval mace. Hundreds of years old but by Destine’s own personal maintenance gifted it was an appearance that belied its true age. A heavy thing, best wielded with two hands and more than one of her soldiers, visitors and those higher in ranking alike had pondered if she knew how to use it. Though none possessed the courage to ask.

They had joked about not wanting to give her an excuse to demonstrate her speculated skill with it. 

“What I want to know is what the hell happened on that infernal excuse of a planet, in full. Now.” She did not raise her voice and was expectantly awaiting an answer. 

Mari’s smile vanished and she reached into her pocket to reveal a simple, unremarkable case with an unmarked silver disc within. Discs by modern sensibilities were held as a leftover from the pre-space age. It was faster and easier to utilize flash drives and instant data transmissions on personal receivers. Hence why Mari preferred discs. Because of their increasing lack of commonality they were harder to track and even fewer expected them to be used in the first place. 

“This is footage of our battle with the Sharpclaw. It was brief, but I think you’ll find they’re plenty dangerous.”

She laid the disc on the desk’s surface, the wooden coolness oddly pleasant to her fingers as they brushed over it. She adjusted her glasses and waited for Destine to respond.   
The fire haired woman took it in her hand, momentarily giving it a once over.

“Barring this superweapon what sort of technology do they have in their possession?”

“Basic firearms and melee weaponry, a small fleet capable of interstellar travel. Nothing new in that regard, thankfully. In terms of overall military numbers we outclass them but that...thing completely tips things in their favor,” Mari intoned in a voice more severe than even Destine had anticipated and she looked at Mari with a new air of seriousness. 

“Do you have footage of this weapon and its capabilities as well?”

Mari shook her head, the destruction of Warlock Mountain now playing over in her head. She massaged her forehead.

“The way it destroyed the mountain isn’t like anything we’ve seen, as far as I know. The blast essentially...absorbed everything it came into contact with for several kilometers before crushing it all into nothing. Somewhat like a black hole, if that makes sense.”

“I see,” Destine set the disc aside, knowing that for the moment this information was hers to know. “Does it possess any further capabilities?”

“The way Krystal described it: At full power it could do nearly anything,” Mari hoped that for the present moment she wouldn’t have to attempt to describe Krazoa spirits and how the supernatural played a direct hand in the weapon’s functionality. And Krystal herself. She was psychic and wielded what was quite unmistakably a mystical weapon. They really did not know much about the vixen. She was undoubtedly benevolent, that much was brazenly clear. But everything else, from her home planet, her age, her biology, even something as simple as a surname (if she possessed one) was entirely up for speculation. Nor was she aware of Destine's own personal esoteric beliefs and as to whether or not she would accept even the possibility of the involvement of the metaphysical. 

“Worse than destroying an entire mountain and its surrounding area?”

“Yeah. Hard as that is to believe.”

Silence. Passing by the black sea and the stars that pressed against the glass and the massive hull of the ship as the ocean did to the wooden seafaring vessels of a time period that existed only in history. Mari leaned back in the chair. Her hair was currently down in full, loose and it tickled the nape of her neck. 

“And what of this...alien vixen? Krystal.”

Mari sighed. 

“We don’t know much. I’m positive she’s on our side if that’s what you’re getting at,” Mari frowned at the other woman now. Destine was known to be cautious, even straying into the realm of paranoia when it came to contending with unknown factors. Destine had found over the years that most people were simply enemies waiting to happen and at best, mutual benefactors and little more than that. 

“And the leader of these...Sharpclaw?” Destine made a sour expression. She found the name distasteful to such a magnitude that in any other case she would have found it tacky and even comical. 

“General Scales.”

“A reptile named ‘Scales’?” Destine, for once, allowed herself to be openly incredulous. Truly an imaginative species when it came to the custom of naming things, it seemed. 

“Yes. And from what Krystal and Anya told me he’s no joke. He has absolute control over the tribe. Either because there’s enough loyalists or because they’re all scared shitless of him. Aside from that weapon, he’s the biggest threat. If we can take him out the Sharpclaw should theoretically surrender without much issue.”

“I see you’re taking this all with exceptional seriousness, Makinami,” Destine said with narrowed green eyes, the shocking hint of an actual smile on her lips. 

“Yes. I am. I hope you are too.”

“Oh rest assured, I am,” she waved a hand, “merely making an observation is all. Don’t think too much of it.”

“I didn’t think you’d get a sense of humor now, of all times.”

“Trust me, I’m not.”

More silence. Destine steepled her fingers together and leaned her chair back, taking a deep breath. She was icily calm under pressure when need be despite her reputation for being as fiery her hair color. Superweapons we’re nothing new. Especially not in the current time with which the human race lived. Weapons of the present could easily be given the moniker of a superweapon to those of older generations. Being familiar with so many politicians, other military leaders, and figures more secretive than both she was aware of a great many things. Including weapons not publicly available and according to most sources did not exist nor was their existence ever to be disclosed. Period. 

But a weapon with power that could potentially enter the realm of limitless? Moments like this made her wonder why she always seemed to end up in these...fantastical scenarios. It was not that it troubled her, but compared to her peers she could tell numerous stories whereas their most enthralling tale would amount to whether or not the standard coffee was good that morning. 

“How long until we reach Sauria?” Mari trailed a figure eight with the toe of her shoe, an orb of light from overhead reflecting back up at her as sightless, amorphous eye.

“Two standard days at this rate. But if Scales has this weapon at his beck and call I would claim that getting too close is entirely too risky. We would be jeopardizing an entire fleet. And currently we know nothing of its range limit or recharge time, correct?”

Mari nodded, tapping a finger on the armrest with a furrowed brow. 

“But we can’t just do nothing-,” Mari held her tongue when Destine held up a hand with an uncharacteristic patience. 

“I’m not suggesting we do nothing at all, just that we engage cautiously rather than recklessly and needlessly toss away lives. If there’s trouble on the planet’s surface we could possibly send down troops in small shuttles that their radars shouldn’t be able to detect unless consciously searching for them.”

Mari smiled, relieved that the general wasn’t backing out. 

“That and we could just pelt them with missiles. I doubt even a space dino fleet could stand up to Shredder Missiles.”

Destine glowered at the nickname that had been bequeathed to the missiles upon their creation some hundred years ago. They were less popular among political groups for a multitude of reasons. Money. Effort. Others groused about their destructive capacity and the hypothetical morality of using them; and as a result it varied drastically as to which fleets actually had them on hand. Destine had raised hell to have as many as possible. And she did. Many an opposing fleet would tremble at the notion of the missiles ripping into hulls and the worst case scenario: The missile living up to its nickname in full and tearing through the metal and detonating inside. 

Destine cleared her throat and her nails slid slowly over the surface of her desk as her fingers tensed in a manner that was unnerving claw-like. Mari could easily picture talons rending into the wood and restrained a smile at the thought. 

“Rest assured, we will confront these new enemies and if they do not surrender they will die. It’s as simple as that.”

“Still as harmonious and humane as ever, general.”

\----

Drakor’s metallic wings stirred the trees as he swooped down under the cover of darkness. Pinkish purple leaves torn from the branches and loftily floated down to the path below. His eyes enabled him to see in a variety of environments and settings. Infrared and night vision primarily. He could see for miles in the sky and he had scoured every surface inch of the Cloudrunner Fortress from above. They thought it well protected with their moats and watchtowers. 

His nostrils flared as he detected two guards, unaware and arrogantly not even attempting to use their wings. Strolling along the walkway without a care in the world. As if the potential death of their world was not looming in an increasingly nonexistent distance. 

But Drakor considered none of these abstract concepts. His brain compelled him to kill. Kill every Cloudrunner he could and lay waste to the entire fortress. 

Cloudrunners. With their dainty builds and often haughty attitudes were held in great contempt by the Sharpclaw and at best were tolerated by other dinosaurs. With their ability to fly and their technology and vast wealth they were the envy of many. It would take little time to deduce Scales’ reasoning for their race and their home to be the first of Drakor’s victims. 

The first guard did not even register the sound of wings nor even see the descending shape of the fiend that descended upon him. Not until it was much too late. 

His back snapped and his ribs crumpled uselessly under Drakor’s weight. Blood quickly pooling from the irreparably damaged body, beak parted in a gasp of air he would never have and eyes glassy. One peering up dumbfoundedly at the monster who had crushed him.

Drakor fixed the remaining guard with a murderous gaze, growling lowly as his prey backed away clumsily in panic. His wings fluttering as he tried in desperation to conjure up the strength to fly. To give a warning shriek. A squawk. Anything. 

He gagged as the one organic hand Drakor possessed ensnared around the thin neck to pull him in. Drakor swung his three pronged cannon towards the Cloudrunner’s sternum and instantly the avian dinosaur’s corporeal existence was ended. 

He paid no mind to the squish of his feet on the now unmistakable soaked stone. His brain roared at him his objective. His body positively electric with a thirst for blood and the smell of ash and smoke. 

War. Kill.


	15. Chapter 15

Krystal awoke to a comforting warmth pressed against her back and instantly she recognized her friend, feeling her lips turn upward into a pleased smile. She knew not how long she had been asleep and she had little desire to face the clock with its sickly green numbers. Rest had been dreamless but still she found herself wanting, so many thoughts about what she wished to say rolled about in her mind. Rocking like a tiny boat on a dark, uncertain sea. It promised neither sanctuary nor cruelty. Her fingers pressed into the pillow as she pushed herself up slowly, not yet wishing to wake Anya. The woman had been through so much in such a shockingly short time span. Krystal smiled again as she respected and admired her strength and fortitude in the face of it all. 

The blanket fell from her shoulders and she rolled the stiffness of sleep from them. She had changed into her Cerinian attire after her shower. She did like the suit that had been constructed for her back at the colony, but she had missed the familiarity and freedom of her natural clothing. It left much of her body uncovered but she failed to see how that was a problem for humans. The climate she had spent the majority of her life in on her home planet had been very hot and restrictive clothing was among the last things anyone wanted to wear. And it was a form of self expression. Of one’s own comfortability with themselves, markings on the body could indicate affiliations, family, love, beliefs. One could learn so much from a single glance before a single word had to be spoken. 

Breathing out deeply and slowly she opted to meditate once more. Silently she slid her strong legs out from beneath the blanket and sank to the floor in a motion so fluid it was almost akin to a trickle of water. The coolness of the floor would inspire many to jolt and shiver when freshly awake but she paid it no mind. Casting aside environmental elements in some cases came par the course for meditation. To draw on the inner ocean of self and allow that to be your surroundings, material washed away by its purity and limitlessness. It swept in softly now with a whooshing whisper. Filling her up and taking her away to a realm more tranquil than nearly anything in the entire universe. She floated weightlessly in it. Lighter than a feather in zero gravity and her entire body felt as if she was buzzing with energy and melding her with the cosmos itself. 

Cerinians were often taught how to meditate from a young age. Especially those with psychic or other metaphysical blessings. Her abilities had been documented among members of her family for generations, particularly among the women, such as herself. And even among her family’s long history her abilities were powerful even at a young age. She remembered she could consciously see other’s thoughts and feelings as young as two or three years old and how startled she had been when a voice that wasn’t her own would ring in her head with as much clarity as traditionally spoken word. 

That had been a long time ago now.

She rested in the peacefulness, stretching out with her mind and rejuvenating herself for the days ahead. Warmth filling her from head to toe and for a brief moment the back of her hand buzzed with the sensation of an ethereal touch and even in the physical world her tail fluffed out from the unexpected feeling. 

_“Mother? Father?”_ There was an unshakable certainty of familiarity of the touch on her hand though she saw no presence other than her own. She felt herself smiling again, hoping she would feel it once more and even hear their voices. Even if just for one more moment. She had never gotten to say goodbye…

But there was nothing. Even with all her searching. The touch vanished only seconds after she realized it even existed and though her heart stung from a lack of further response in the overall sense she felt genuinely happy. She could not recall the last time she had felt so joyous as she knew in her heart of hearts who had been with her. Even if only for a few brief, precious few seconds. 

Anya silently watched her friend, still sitting unmoving on the floor. She had awakened when she felt Krystal leave the bed and had watched her slide to the floor and enter her meditative state. Which she had remained in for a considerable time period. Aside from her tail fluffing out momentarily there was no indication the physical world even registered to her. The defined muscles of her back, her personal markings and graceful muzzle. She could have been mistaken for a sculpture. Anya’s eyes scanned over the intricate markings on her arms, encircling her biceps. On her lower back there was another mark, its white color stood out prominently in contrast to her blue fur and she freely wondered what it meant along with the others. She certainly would not be the type to decorate herself purely for wanton fun or to simply draw attention herself. With the reverence she treated what few belongings she carried with her, her culture was important to her. 

Feeling the cooling spot where the vixen had rested with her right hand, Anya felt her brows furrow as she thought over what she could deduce about Krystal and her history. With how guarded she was she suspected something terrible had happened some time ago. There was clearly some grieving, struggling to feel some resolution. And she knew well enough, personally, that grief was a difficult creature to rid oneself of. And for many it never went away. Transforming from a natural emotional process to a cruel leech that slowly and painfully drained away everything good about someone and all their loves and joys into a sad, withering husk. 

A single, pearling tear ran down Krystal’s cheek and she could not help but sit up. Mouth opening once and closing as she skirted back and forth on whether or not to speak. It clung to her fur, glistening and transparent before it dripped off to be never be seen again. A weight in the room lifted with it and suddenly they had the shared feeling of being able to breathe after a prolonged period of suffocation. 

“The mark on my lower back means ‘Purity.’” 

Krystal’s accented voice startled Anya from her staring and there came a good-natured chuckle from the vixen. Her tail swished over the ground and she eased herself back to her feet. At times after a session of deep meditative immersion readjusting to the physical world could take a few seconds for one to properly collect themselves. Some could meditate so deeply they found it best to remain sitting afterwards for minutes. 

Anya chuckled in a moment of awkward humor at having essentially been caught staring. Though really she did not blame herself. Krystal was as fascinating as she was beautiful. 

“You okay?”

“Well enough,” Krystal responded, now standing to her full height and stretching her arms over her head, fingers laced together. Her lithe body stretching leisurely and her tail brushed the moderately crinkled bed sheets.

“And the others? If I can ask?”

Krystal smiled, tracing the swirling design on her right outer thigh with something resembling nostalgia and cultural affection. 

“It represents infinity. With the triangles embodying endless energy and love,” she indicated said triangles without shame or hesitation. Each perfectly centered. One above, one to the right and left, and one below. Anya deduced they must have used a special ink that melded with her fur as it did with her skin. 

“And the ones on your arms?” Anya sat up now, hair tad disheveled from sleep but she herself was now perky and alert with energy. Eager to learn about a culture so far and beyond earth’s. 

Krystal’s eyes were shadowed by a passing somberness that she quickly shook off. Discarding it into a void where it would not disturb this moment of sharing. The markings on her arms were just as finely detailed as the others but from the brief shift in her expression Anya could tell these were likely the most important to her. Stylistically they resembled brackets, divided into segments with an “L” shape between each. Cupping each in a fashion that reminded Anya of temple runes and engravings carved meticulously on a wall. 

“My family symbol.”

“Like a crest?”

“Something like that,” Krystal murmured, remembering their faces. Her father smiling, her mother’s quiet but shining pride and happiness. She remembered the sun in the sky and the heat of Cerinian summer and the nipping chill of winter. The rainy seasons and its thunder. How it could get so loud that it’d rattle the glasses and drinking cups in the kitchen like a cannon. 

“They’re...all gone now.”

She was unsure how to proceed. She had long turned over the hypothetical conversation in her head more than once. And it was something she had never spoken of with anyone. Her war with Scales afforded her little in the way of companionship that amounted to anything more than battlefield camaraderie. 

“Your...family?” Anya inquired with a voice so quiet it was barely above a faint whisper. Her face held sympathy born of familiarity to the loss she spoke of. Her brown eyes had welled up with tears. They budded in her eyes like liquid flowers of sorrow. Her fists clenched the blanket. Anya had suspected that Krystal’s immediate family were no longer present in her life in the tangible sense of the word, but it was still painful to hear her say it. 

And even so, she felt the oxygen leave her lungs as though in the presence of space vacuum itself when Krystal continued. 

“All of them. My entire race.”

Heavy, agonized silence languished every cubic centimeter of the room now. Saying the words out loud for the first time to another living being brought her little catharsis, rather it stung at her heart with the pain of being pierced by a blade. She allowed her tears to fall at last, falling upon her legs and a shuddering, suppressed sob wracked her body and she held it back with the urgency of a slowly breaking dam. 

In a series of motions that bordered on reflexive she allowed herself to collapse into Anya’s embrace, her tears leaving wet traces on her friend’s chest and her arms enveloped her so tightly the gravitational pull of a black hole’s event horizon could not have separated them. Anya swiped away her own tears as Krystal’s pain felt as if it was her own and the memories of her own losses resurfaced as scar’s reopening to bleed once again. 

Only quiet sobs and harsh, rattling intakes of breath lingered for the time being. Anya spared the clock no passing glances and neither could say how long they remained in their current state. The woman rested her chin atop the vixen’s head, one of her ears brushing her pale cheek and her arms felt the warmth of blue fur. Krystal drew her legs close to her body, her tail sweeping over them as she curled herself against Anya. Wanting to disappear into the safety of her friend’s arms forever. 

Linear time passed neither swiftly nor slowly. It seemed to not exist at all and for that moment was exposed as a constructed ideation on the realm of the three dimensional. Significance and emotion were not constrained by such limitations for they lived separately from the slow march and maw of that construct. That hungry, lying construct. 

Krystal’s arms slid to Anya’s hips tiredly as she understood all the meditation in the galaxy could have scarcely prepared her for speaking about the death of her world. She remembered that sweet touch that had graced her hand and her lips rose into a knowing, relieved smile and knew that it was safe to speak again. She remembered that her mother had told her that sometimes all it could take was smile to regain one's inner strength. That she had the strength to confront it vocally and with the intimacy of another who in some way could understand more than anyone else would even attempt to. 

Clutching at the fabric of her friend’s clothing reassuringly she pulled away slowly, allowing Anya’s arms to remain around her shoulders. There was a unique sensation that could be ascribed to releasing pain, which in and of itself could be an act of pain, yet it overall lacked any proper name. Even among her own culture. Anya didn’t say a word, only waited for her to continue when she was ready. A reassuring squeeze of her shoulders and deep brown eyes that held a deep understanding and warm compassion inspired her to resume speaking again. 

“I was off planet at the time, doing some diplomatic work for a neighboring world when...it happened.”

Krystal’s tail shifted and she felt her heart twist as fought to remove that spiritual blade wielded by grief. 

“A massive influx of energy from enormous distant solar flare struck the planet and…,” Krystal’s eyes watered again, staring blankly at an empty space on the plain white blanket. She remembered the alarms of her ship going off, wailing electronically at the now impossibly high radiation levels that emanated from the planet that had once been her home. 

The alarm system’s own screaming was drowned out by her own. And all she heard in her mind for...she didn’t know how long, was the collective scream of her people that still hung in the psychic field like an unheard message. It assaulted her mind so terribly she had forced herself to close her mind as she fled and for two weeks she had refused to open her mind lest she hear it again. It was a bitter relief that it plagued her only in memory. And that was still a terrible wound to be inflicted with. 

She re-embraced Anya fully, allowing herself to cry again. 

“I miss them so much!” 

“I know,” Anya replied in a voice that sounded older than her usual timber. But more emotionally soothing. 

“I...I miss them,” Krystal breathed in a ragged, tired voice. More exhausted than even after the recent battles with the Sharpclaw. More exhausted than after Scales had secured the pyramid. But strangely she began to feel a wash of relief in herself. A horrid weight lifted for the first time. 

Through almost no will of her own the vixen’s eyes suddenly felt heavily. Impossibly heavy as sleep and the promise of sweet peace beckoned her back to its fold. 

“Anya, I-,”

“Shhh, it’s okay Krystal. If you want to keep talking now or later, that’s okay.” She smiled down at her and with saintly care lowered her back onto the pillow and gracefully the blanket whispered back over her body. 

“Thank you,” Krystal’s voice felt small and she found the power in herself to caress Anya’s cheek, cupping it gratefully in one hand. 

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“Yes. I do.”

She was asleep shortly after that, watched over by her friend. Anya sat awake for a while. Staring at a dark corner in unspoken pensiveness. Pain expressed by those she cared for had an affect on her that was difficult to detail. Intimacy of that caliber was something she had not experienced in a long time. And, she smiled when she realized she felt comfortable enough to share with Krystal, should the conversation resume. 

She had never had that closeness with another before.


	16. Chapter 16

Piercing battle shrieks laced the increasingly smoky air as Cloudrunner troops dive bombed Drakor. Talons scraping off his armor and pecking with their long, narrow beaks at his eyes. Cloudrunner soldiers wore little in the way of armor as they had long held firm to the belief that a true flier needs no armor. 

Were Drakor capable of such level of thought he would have wondered if they regretted that as he slew more of their number. Whether by laser fire or simply beating them to death with his own power they proved to be little match for him. The fires crackling and raging in their beloved city to their shared horror only aided him further in the act of breaking them. Their spirits burned alongside their city in equal measure. 

From his cannon arm he retaliated with a volley of lasers, scorching and blasting their frailer forms to pieces in a gory flash. Limbs rained upon the streets below and charred meat dotted the landscape. He roared psychotically and eagerly pursued six now retreating soldiers, firing on them wildly and caring little about where the shots went or who they struck. The wind whistled as they darted and zipped about mutually in their attempts to catch up to or evade the other, and as they passed through a thick blossoming plume of smoke the troops suddenly split away from each other faster than even he could react to. 

They swooped back around and formed a circle, simultaneously from their mouths they spat blue fireballs with a vengeance. Drakor glowered and could only brace himself as they struck him dead on from all sides, the mixing energies detonating and for a moment he was consumed in a blue explosion that his body fell from limply. Small plumes of dancing flame lingered on the membrane of his wings before blipping out of existence, his wings frustratingly unmarred by the intense heat. 

But still, the Cloudrunners did not let up. Half their precious city, their ancient heritage that had been present in the lives of Cloudrunner civilization for so long it may as well have always been there, was at risk of being purged from the face of the planet. They screeched and cawed for more of their brethren to join them and kill the beast that beset them. They fired again. None would be satisfied until they had torn Drakor to bits personally.

The cyborg regained his bearings, shaking his monstrous head to clear it and opened his wings. With grace that seemed as though it should be beyond him he twisted his body in a display and neatly pulled up seconds before smacking onto the stone floor of the royal courtyard. The tops of trees rustled and blossoms were ripped from the branches. Effortlessly he barreled through another attacking flock, his impossibly powerful limbs battering them aside and his arms bludgeoned those who tried to escape. He maneuvered behind a series of majestic pillars to evade more returning fire. He may have appeared nigh invulnerable but that was not reason to be reckless. One of the few things of his original mind that remained was self-preservation. Even if that fight to continue living was only to benefit Scales. 

The murderous beast hissed in the flashes of fireballs that pelted the pillars and the walls. Illuminating his demonic, raging face as he re-emerged in his entirety and attacked the Cloudrunners with even greater fury.

The snapping and cracking of limbs and the gurgling caws of pain reinvigorated his innate bloodlust further and he spun about while airborne and blasted his pursuers. Their captain managed only one pitiful half scream before the laser struck his core and obliterated him. 

Those closest were stunned by blood splashing their bodies. So accustomed were they to peace the number of Cloudrunners who had seen true warfare were remarkably slim. Sudden, violent death was something they had only read of in their history books. Stories passed on of times that all assumed would never return. That those who engaged in war were savages of olden times and never would those same monsters arrive on their doorsteps seeking their deaths. 

And more joined their captain in death, their remains plunged into the surrounding moats like grotesque raindrops.

Drakor howled, thrashing about and snapping his jaws, inviting more challengers. He felt something that vaguely approximated the realm of disappointment that the Cloudrunners crumbled so easily under the pressures of war. Growling he made a beeline for the palace. Home of the Cloudrunner Queen herself and her children. His orders goaded him to attack brazenly. Kill the queen. Kill her heirs. Wipe out the Cloudrunners and stamp out their resolve as one crushes pests in their midst. 

The red and gold doors decorated with the imagery of one Cloudrunner on each, standing tall and magnificent, each with a wing open on their respective sides were smashed to pieces by his seemingly unstoppable form. They dangled from their hinges and the left half snapped away and echoed deafeningly in the palace’s parlor. 

More guards swarmed him. The interior of any Cloudrunner dwelling or establishment was meant to accommodate their ability of flight. And as such they had plenty of room to move about and strike at their attacker. Drakor roared in the face of one guard he gripped by his throat and cracked another over the skull with his cannon but still found himself caught off guard and unawares by the sheer number. At least thirty. 

He swung in a wide punch and shot one who found himself overly emboldened but another seized the moment, swooping in and wisely tripping him up. He landed awkwardly on his side, pinning one of his own wings beneath his armored mass and as he began to righten himself a fireball pelted his exposed back and toppled him. With a wail they descended and attempted to pull him apart but were confounded by his armor’s impenetrability and the unnatural resilience of his flesh; and those combined factors gave him more than enough time to launch a counter assault. Their pecking and clawing fueled his crazed desire for violence. It burned in his veins, his blood an electric ichor and every fiber of his being let out a cacophonous scream to be vented on the whole of Sauria without mercy or reason. His vision became a haze of fiery red and his ears filled with the pumping of blood and the tone of his own broken thoughts.

Drakor went berserk. 

He slashed and beat his enemies to death. He hurled them across the parlor and broke their bodies on the stone walls and great pillars that held the roof aloft. He fired without hesitation and snapped his jaws over a thin neck. He swatted enemies aside in a spiraling heap with his wings. He gored them with the long horns atop his head and shook them about. Stomped on those scrambling to flee with his feet. The world around him a smear of chaos, smoke and blood. A hurricane of brutality in which Drakor was simultaneously its eye and its storm. 

He himself was as decorated by the slaughter as the walls and floor were. A veil of blood lined his forehead and ran in little rivets down his face; one trailing into the hollow of his left eye and down his cheek like a tear. He let out great snarling and warbling puffs of hot air and bellowed triumphantly. 

Instinct told him it was likely the Queen had escaped by this point along with her brood but that was no reason Drakor couldn’t bring down most of their royal home. Heavy footsteps carried him out into the open air again and with a push of his legs and beating of his thick wings he was flying again. 

Adjusting the power output of his cannon he aimed it at the pillars. The trio of blades that surrounded its muzzle crackled a pale blue and, gripping his arm with his organic hand, the monster fired. A concentrated heat beam cut through the ancient stone and the walls with no regard for their sturdiness. Molten rock dribbled to the floor and immediately portions of the castle collapsed in on itself as its structural integrity was obliterated in a matter of moments. The ground rumbled and a wave of dust traveled for many miles over the maimed and burned city. The few who could still be called onlookers caterwauled in despair, mourning the agony of their losses. If Drakor opted to finish them, at the moment, for them it could have been called mercy. 

The beam maintained itself for only fifteen or so seconds but that was more than enough to bring down at least half of the palace. The Queen Cloudrunner’s overlooking nest, a rounded pagoda like structure with a round blunt top, crumbled to little more than glorified rock and dust. The muzzle of his cannon glowed an intense orange. A trail of hot vapor coiling about his face and stinging his nostrils.

Drakor’s lips twisted into something of a smile and his throat bulged, veins pumped beyond normalcy as he roared in bloodstained triumph. 

\----

On the screen in his personal quarters Scales watched through his creation’s eyes with an especially pleased smile. He had always held Sauria’s other races in a great deal of contempt but the Cloudrunner’s held a special position of hate. More than once, alongside the Earthwalker’s did they stand against the Sharpclaw and past attempts at conquest. And had for years, overtly or in the privacy of their own domains, looked upon the Sharpclaw as little else than backward brutes. Scornful of their combative ways and increasing usage of outside technology to further their standing over other races. Scales had sneered at the irony. The gall to label him arrogant when their own collective hubris held their own races from advancement and such foolishness would be their undoing. He would see to that. Personally. 

He tapped his hooks with a sneer and bathed in the crimson light of the holographic projection of the events he watched almost unblinkingly. The horned shadow he cast distorted and splashed up the walls and bending across the ceiling, a fiendish spectator. 

The annihilation of the two tribes was a welcome one in his eyes. Too long had their dominance over Saurian interfered with his plans. And even more obscene in his eyes, promoting stagnation and weakness. Refusing to adapt and incorporate more technology and shunning the greatness it promised like simpering cowards content to live in caves and fighting for scraps. Scales considered them unfit to live. Unfit to be absorbed into the new universe he would create from the canvas of war and destruction. They were sacrifices and it made him guffaw in laughter that this was the end result of their way of life. And by the time he was finished there would be nothing left. No marker they had ever existed. 

Absently he pushed a small button his belt, recalling Drakor back to Dragon Rock for inspection and possible maintenance. In something of a state of peace he reclined in his chair and allowed his head to lean back, muscular green arms folded over his abdomen and quickly he entered a state of sleep. Scales rarely slept deeply. His way of life had left him adjusted to be prepared to spring away at the slightest unnatural sound. Both as a matter of logical caution and personal ethos. Stagnation. Comfortability was a prelude to death.

But still it lingered in his mind he had no reason to worry now. The pyramid was his and long loathed enemies were being slaughtered in droves. And deliciously so, more would join them. 

It would only later dawn upon him that he currently was plagued by the same perceived arrogance held by the Earthwalkers and Cloudrunners.

\----

Krystal felt waking consciousness return to her slowly. Spreading throughout her limbs one by one all the way down to her fingers and toes. Her mind unoccupied by any recollections or preoccupations for those few seconds that remained after first waking up. Last night came back to her and it explained why she was in Anya’s arms. The burgundy haired woman had her head propped up against the wall, the pillows crinkled and forming around her back. Carefully she eased herself out of her friend’s arms and took in the beginning of a new day. 

The emotions of last night still left her feeling somewhat drained but also relieved. The sort of ease and healing soreness of having an extreme level of weight removed from their body and at last being able to move about normally again. And in spite of everything she found herself happy as she slid out of bed and maneuvered herself quietly towards the bathroom for a shower. She swiftly removed her clothing and the touch of a panel activated the geysers of warm water. 

Krystal faced herself in the mirror with an air of impasse about what the day would hold. They weren’t too far from Sauria at this point and the disturbing notion that Scales had already brought his war back to that beautiful planet made her lip curl. The next time they met in the flesh, she would kill him. This she vowed.

Her hand touched the mirror as moisture began to gather upon it from the heat of the water, encroaching upon her reflection with the laziness of growing moss. Her golden nails clicked on the glass when her hand impacted it and she trailed it along the surface and into the increasingly larger layer of fog, leaving a vaguely hand-shaped smear. 

Krystal’s tail swished once and she stepped into the water’s embrace, the door sliding shut with a whispering hiss behind her and the warmth soaked and settled into her blue fur. Dozens and dozens of droplets ran from her tail and rain from her head to her chest, down her toned stomach and the length of her legs. 

She did not dread the future. In her eyes, the future that Scales desired should dread her. 

Even more so now that she was not alone. 

\----

The chill at her side awoke Anya and in temporary confusion she searched for Krystal with her hands and felt especially silly when her ears detected the sound of the shower running in the smaller room just a few feet away. She sighed and slid herself flat onto the bed, her top riding up her stomach and absently she touched her midriff piercing but no thoughts came to her for the time being. Only the steadfast resolution that the time for action was again bearing down upon them. 

And, as an archaic earth saying went, the best option was to take the bull by the horns. 

But at the same time, said metaphorical bull came in the form of a tyrannical dinosaur with a reality altering weapon at his disposal. 

A buzz startled her from her budding thoughts, a panel next to the bed slid open faster than she could process to reveal an intercom. A red button next to the grated slots in which voices could speak to one another seemed almost obscene after first awakening.

“Hey Anya? Krystal? You there?” Mari’s voice inquisitive prodded for a response. She sounded her typical cheery self. Leave it to her to take everything so readily and keep smiling. Even in the face of a potential armageddon. 

Anya cleared her throat and wet her lips, conjuring her voice back as a finger daintily pressed the button to enable a response. 

“Yeah I’m here. Krystal’s showering right now. What do you need?”

“Destine wants a meeting in an hour. We’re starting to catch up to Scales and his cronies and she wants to plot our next course of action. We don’t want to risk getting too close but she’d prefer to take them down before we have to set foot on a sovereign planet.”

“You won’t need to worry about that,” Krystal spoke from the bathroom doorway, her fur still gleaming and a towel barely covering her front. Her left hip entirely bare as she dried her torso. “Sauria may be largely detached from galactic affairs but once they know I’m with you there should be little issue.”

“Well, that’s good, at least. Just try to be on time. Can feel Demona breathing down my neck right now!” Mari laughed, her voice buzzing out and the intercom covered by the panel as soon as Anya removed her finger. 

“‘Demona’?” Krystal inquired, blinking in confusion. 

“Old nickname they gave Destine for her...fierce disposition. Probably wouldn’t recommend saying it to her face though,” Anya earnestly giggled. 

Krystal shrugged with a smile and with a graceful nonchalance dried her hair, uncovered and not at all shy about it. Anya looked away out of politeness, hoping her face wasn’t too red. Nudity in and of itself was not truly an issue but she had never met someone so free of shame in that regard. That and she couldn’t help but notice the vixen’s pink nipples were quite unmistakably perky from the change in temperature from bathroom to bedroom. 

“So, Sauria isn’t connected to any sort of…,” Anya pause to select her next words properly, “galactic republic or alliance?” 

“No. Sauria does lie on the very faint outskirts of a galaxy but I’ve had the time to find out if said galaxy has entirely sapient life.”

“Guess that makes things easier then,” Anya stood as Krystal redressed, her towel draped over her shoulders. She at least intended to shower before having to interact with bureaucracy and chains of command. 

As she passed, a hand touched her shoulder. It moved to her chin and softly turned her head to face Krystal.

“Thank you.”  
“Krystal,” the woman gripped her hand, “like I said, you don’t have to thank me.”

“And like I said: Yes. I do.” 

“We’ll stop all this together, right?”

“Yes.”


	17. Chapter 17

The hangar seemed impossibly spacious in spite of the bustling activity and the din of voices bouncing off the metal walls and echoing to become lost in the distance. Above them no less than ten missiles hung from powerful harnesses, and with aching deliberate slowness, were lowered. The whirring of the cranes made Krystal’s ears twitch and the overhead lights reflected with an oddly complimentary gleam on the sharp, curved points of the missiles. Constructed with the expressed purpose of complete destruction. Jets larger than the standard model. Sleek and would enabled faster travel. The artificial aroma made Krystal's nostrils flare.

“We’ve outfitted the missiles with additional fuel and stronger jets for longer distances,” Destine explained. “I intend to keep us out of radar detection for the time being, until I see for myself what this pyramid can allegedly do.” 

Neither Krystal nor Anya could detect fault in the flame haired general’s pragmatism, however they doubted the missiles would take down his flagship. But there was still value to be had in the element of surprise. 

“Right now Scales is assured of his invincibility. He won’t anticipate an assault,” Krystal spoke, arms crossed. “Are you positive these will pierce the hull?”

“Shredder missiles were designed to pierce anywhere from seventy five to eighty meters underground,” Mari piped up with an enormous grin, and with an obvious relaxed aura that contrasted the severity of the situation. She sat atop a smooth metal crate, legs dangling like a child on a swing set in simpler days. Destine glowered at the nickname for the missiles but did not vocally object as they had more important matters at hand. 

“They’ll shred that oversized lizard’s ship like wet paper. Whether or not they bring it down though…,” Mari shrugged in honest admission of being uncertain as to the final outcome and her chipperness faltered for a fleeting moment. 

“After that Anya and I will head down to Sauria’s surface. With all that chaos and the smaller size of the ship we should be able to slip through.”

“That’s all well and good but what the hell will you do once Scales notices you?” Anya queried severely. She gripped her shoulder in thought and chilling remembrance of the weapon’s power. And even more worrisome was the fact they had no real knowledge as to whether or not it even had a range limit. She heavily doubted that a magic weapon had such hindrances. 

“Maximum shield power and a sudden direction utilizing a burst of lightspeed travel,” Destine replied with a timber of nonchalance. “Risky, but high reward.” 

Announcing that little facet of her plan had created quite a stirring among the ranks but in the end they would do as she asked. She had proven hundreds of times over to be a reliable commanding officer. Even if some of her plans were so unorthodox they would have been bequeathed the label of lunacy from any lesser individual.

“Do you have any clue on what you’re looking for on Sauria’s surface?” Mari asked, shimmying off the crate and landing loudly on the floor, hair bouncing.

“We have several goals to accomplish,” the vixen started, her tail swished in thought and her blue fur appeared to faintly glow under the eye-like lights hanging like miniature suns overhead. 

“First is finding what we need to protect the planet in its entirety, and second is taking the fight to Scales himself and rid the planet of his allies.”

“There’s actually a way to stop that thing?” Anya looked at Krystal, eager for further explanation. 

“The SpellStones. Mystical gems created to hold Sauria together. If we can find those we may have a chance.”

“Hold the planet together?” Destine echoed with some evident incredulousness. What a fantastical idea! A planet requiring magic to be held together as a surgical patient is strung together by stitches! Overnight her world had become one of ancient history that was not her own. And magic. Arguably the greatest unproven force in the universe. And she found she was adjusting to it all seamlessly. Perhaps experience had led her to be more open minded than her peers?

“Yes. Sauria is not like other planets.”

A loud, electronic beep announced unceremoniously that the time was drawing near. The moment of properly renewing the conflict was fast approaching. And more so than ever there was no room for missteps. Destine’s commanding voice faded to a quiet murmur to both Krystal and Anya as they looked upon each other. As soon as the missiles reached their target they would head out, speeding towards Sauria’s surface. The whole of the universe depending on their success. Krystal smiled once, and nodded. 

And to her relief, it was all the reassurance that Anya required.

\----

General Scales awoke in his private quarters so abruptly he conveyed the visual of one who had never been asleep at all. His red eyes glowed like embers of Hell as they stared at the ceiling. His mind recalling the memories of the prior day. If one were to glimpse this private moment they would find that brief peace of mind upon awakening that Scales was experiencing to be what could almost be termed “humanizing.” 

Almost. 

His rictus face now peered forward as he wondered why he had a displeasurable feeling of unease rising in him. A nagging thing that clawed at his gut and whispered to his mind that something was wrong or on the cusp of disaster. 

He stood quickly, face upturned to the ceiling. Appearing to try and become a radar for impending future events that were swiftly acting to become present occurrences. 

Hissing, he pressed a button on his belt and instantly his transmission was answered. The voice of the responding Sharpclaw officer faltered and stammered irritatingly and the general glared at the open air. The officer was blatantly not anticipating any type of call from anyone. Incompetence. But for the moment Scales opted to let it pass. 

“Yes general?”

“Have there been any anomalies on radar?” He snapped with barely quelled impatience. He paced now, footsteps echoed in the darkened chamber dully. 

“Approaching vessels?”

“Anything at all,” Scales emphasized, organic fist clenched tightly enough to feel it in his bones and up his powerful forearm. 

“Not from our immediate readings-”

The soldier’s barely cognizant blathering was interrupted by the last thing Scales wished to hear. The alarms. His chambers now glowed a deep haze of red as the warning light activated. The bulb spinning within the glass and casting distorted splashes of ink colored shadow on the walls. The alarm blared with an infernal screech, howling that yet again something was about to attempt to hinder his plans.

“What is going on up there!?” Scales bellowed, immediately livid beyond a point of recognition. The muscles in his neck bulged and his hooks swiped through the red air in frustration. 

“Missiles approaching fast! Too fast!” The panicked voice of the officer simpered over the intercom. A witless fool who required instruction for every accursed little thing!

“Raise the shields. Now!”

The first explosion rocked Scales off his feet. The distinctive sound of metal shredding was unmistakable. The Shredder missiles fulfilling their nickname. Tip first it stabbed into the hull of the ship on the starboard side. The blades along its sides ripping and gouging further into the metal. Functioning as a gigantic metal knife it maimed pipes and circuitry, living quarters and supply rooms. It was fortunate the ship did not require fuel to operate as long as it had the Krazoa. Killing crew members in the ensuing explosions and scattered shrapnel and debris. Others sucked out in the coldness of space, screams sucked from their bodies. 

Several more explosions gyrated the ship, punctuating the colossus of a ship with further wounds. 

“Raise those damn shields!” 

The voice of the officer was mangled by static and Scales' mind was flooded with the dreaded realization of one thing.

Krystal was still alive.

He lay on the floor for a moment, unblinking and silent. Half raised like a statue on display he began to hiss. His lips trembled in a storm of pure, unbridled and beyond murderous rage. 

Scales roared. The volume of it frighteningly loud and attaining further volume to a level even he would not have suspected. It reverberated off the walls of his quarters and down the halls of the ship. Twisting on itself to become a ghastly white noise that acted as the invisibly tangible memory of a roar. He roared so long and so loud his throat almost felt raw afterwards and his first fresh intake of oxygen was an enormous fish-like gulp. 

His fist buckled the floor and he shot to his feet. 

“Keep the shields raised and prepare to counter the offensive with our own!” He raced down the corridors on reflex and those still roaming the halls dared not stand in his path for even a millisecond. 

“But general we do not know the extent of the damage.”

“Does the pyramid still function?!” 

“Right away sir!”

Evidently the officer was astute enough to recognize a rhetorical question. The elevator unresponsive; he instead pried the doors open with his hooks and his fingers. An easy enough task. And he had utilized them more than enough times to have precise knowledge as to how far up he would have to travel to reach the bridge. Overall, his enhanced body flooded by fury and adrenaline; it would not take him more than a minute at most. He had insisted his quarters be constructed relatively close to the bridge for such scenarios. 

Effortlessly he leapt into the elevator passageway, adhering to the wall like an abnormally large lizard to a jungle branch. He could see as easily in the dark as he could the light. The walls were smooth, cold as a cadaver. The wires that supported the box shaped transport itself to his back, a faint slick of grease lingered on them comparable to a slug’s trail on stone. He took one moment to brace himself, body tensing as a sprinter’s before bursting into motion. 

In one monumental push of his limbs he was scurrying up the side at a speed that even those who had personally witnessed how blindingly fast he could move would have been overtly taken aback in a mixture of amazement and fear. The oily and artificial smell of the machines that had kept the elevator running stung his nostrils as he raced the up side. The metal around him a smear out of the corners of his eyes. Body perfectly attuned to the odd, three-limbed gait he had assumed for the task. Massive, snarling puffs of air blew from him as he ascended higher and higher. The heavy cadence of limbs colliding with a metallic surface creating an unusual rhythm that matched his three-limbed lope upwards. Drawing close, he gave a leap and landed face to face with the doors he was seeking. And he wasted nary a second. 

Forcefully sliding his hooks between them he pried just enough to slip his fingers in and with a final heave pulled them open. The doors groaned and sparks crackled and harmlessly impacted his jade green skin. The bridge crew were given an obvious start by his sudden and appropriately dramatic reappearance. Several consoles were malfunctioning and a portion of the lights were flickering to an agitating extent. But they were still more capable of overall functioning. And in what took foremost precedence in his mind: Counterattacking. Krystal was alive and he had zero lingering doubts of this notion. In a strange way he could almost feel her out there in space. Watching him. Pursuing him with unrelenting determination forged in a focus that could have been divinely crafted to suit her and only her. 

“General, we’re being hailed,” a soldier notified him, gesturing with an open palm towards a mid-sized, blinking whitish blue light.

“Do we have them on our radar?”

“...Faintly, yes.”

“Kill them all.”

\----

“General Destine, we’re been targeted!” 

“As expected,” the woman remained implacable in her composure. She had never expected that Scales would answer their call at first. It was a distraction at best. 

“Have those two taken off?”

“Yes general, immediately after we launched the missiles.”

“Good. Are the coordinates set?” 

A brief lightspeed jump, even by a few thousand kilometers was an incredibly worrisome move. Some would even declare it to be nothing less than utter madness. Doubly so with vessels of their size. But Destine had never been one to scurry away in the face of adversity. She thrived under it and had personally carved out her own personal lot in life through it all. One deranged reptile with an archaic superweapon would just be another story for her to remember. 

“Yes ma’am.”

“Now!”

\----

Scales squinted as the cannon channeled the dark energy of the pyramid and the Krazoa; concentrating it into a blast of pure ruinous might. A focused ray spiraled out into the open vacuum of space. Tendrils of energy lashing out erratically as it raced further and further outwards to raze anything that was to be caught in its wake. 

The radars beeped, announcing the bizarre disappearance of their foes. The monitors stared stupidly at the screen, one tapping it with a claw to double check that the machinery wasn’t going haywire. 

“Cease fire! Where are they? I know we didn’t hit them,” Scales leaned over to peer at the equipment, his eyes burning into it with the same ferocity as one would look at a possible traitor in their midst. 

“I-I don’t know sir they just disappeared!”

“Impossible. Phantoms did not attack us. Ensure we’re ready to fire again.”

One Sharpclaw of burly stature and sheathed in heavy shimmering silver armor cleared his throat and with the most deliberately respectful salute of his life interjected: “With all due respect general, our systems are heavily damaged. Magic or not unless we escape now we won’t make it to Sauria. Nor do we know how much energy expenditure the cannon can take before it gives out.”

The silence that hung over every square inch of the bridge was so potent it was all but as tangible as flesh. A dozen scenarios played out in the minds of the soldiers present. And none of them ended pleasantly. For themselves or the ship. 

And it was of great surprise that Scales relented with a deep exhale of tired frustration.

“Recalibrate the pyramid to set for teleportation.”

“We...can do that?” One technician hesitantly inquired with bewilderment. 

“Yes. Though the first attempt is always the most high risk hence why I have not had it attempted until now-”

Once more the call system beeped insistently. Again their enemies demanded communication. Scales’ grimacing face shifted into a coldly unsettling smile. Seeing such an expression was often more petrifying to the blood than his typical scowl. Preparing for mass teleportation would take some time and his tactical sensibilities steered him toward attaining some measure of familiarity with his opposition. Even if a slim one. 

“General…?”

“Permit them through.”

\----

General Destine flicked two of her fingers as a silent command to start up the broadcast screen. She and her crew had little in the way of a complete expectation as to who or what they would see peering at them through the digital portal. Just that it would be some sort of reptile. Destine and her troops were professionals. Hardened by years worth of experience and training. Even so, more than one shifted in his or her seat when they saw General Scales himself for the first time. One man took the time to cross himself when he looked into those hateful, cruel red eyes. 

He was massive. His chest and armored shoulders filled up the majority of the screen alongside his horned helmeted head. His lip curled as he recognized them as humans and pieced together that they were assuredly connected to the colonists he had sent his men to kill only days prior. The crew detected some alien tongue in the background, subtle, but his men were chattering at work. 

His eyes locked onto Destine. He did not need to inspect her uniform to pick her out as leader. He forthwith recognized the manner with which she carried herself. A leader’s grace. Different from his own but equally familiar. 

“General Scales.” Destine spoke in a mixture of an impersonal polite greeting and questioning.

He took a moment to compose himself for speech.

“I am General Scales. Dictator of the Sharpclaw Tribe.”

The fact he could speak English, and speak it well was startling to some present. Heightened further by the accent. It was not some incomprehensible foreign timber unheard by the ears of anything earthling. In terms of its sound it was disconcertingly similar to a British accent. Muddled with something approximating Irish or Scottish, additionally. 

“I am General Dominique Destine of the 666th Space Naval Division. And I’m afraid that I must request your immediate surrender.”

“And may I ask on whose authority? A leader superior to yourself?” Scales retorted, his flippant tone making it perfectly observable that he did not intend for his facetious questioning to be answered. His wide, predatory smile made more than among the crew shudder. On a face such as his it resembled something from a surrealist’s night terror. 

“Did a little blue vixen put you up to this?” He brandished his hooks. “Where is she?”

“Protocol demands that unreasonable assault on earth people, especially civilians by hostile forces is to be answered in some way,” Destine folded her arms, her fine chin lifting noticeably. Undaunted. “You made the decision for us by sending your troops to kill largely defenseless men and women.”

General Scales glowered murderously at her. Any sense of hollow affability he had been crudely projecting was cast aside contemptuously like an ill-fitting suit.

“Give me the vixen now. In exchange for her I’ll be willing to spare your lot.”

Destine cocked a brow. Brazen arrogance, but she played along. Keep him talking. By his attempts at immediately attempting to kill them before he clearly wasn’t stupid. But Krystal had told her Scales’ hatred of her ran deep. Into his very core like magma in the heart of a planet. Evidently that was understatement. 

“I hardly think you are in position to be making such obtuse demands, general,” she responded coolly. A quick glance at the information materializing on a technician’s screen informed her there was some massive buildup of energy occurring. Non-offensive as far they could tell. But despite this she gave a subtle nod. Ready more missiles. They were not of the same type that had marred his flagship earlier. But something was better than nothing. 

“Your ship is damaged and-”

“And nothing. Your element of surprise is squandered now. I should have known Krystal was alive and the only way to remove this thorn in my side is to carve it out with my own blades. Once I’m finished with her, you, and all of your crew are next.”

The communication ended. 

The radars whooped and squawked that she almost jumped. 

“General there’s some kind of massive energy influx!” A woman hollered, beckoning her over.

“An attack?”

“No...some kind of opening. A portal?” The female technician shot up from seat, hands slapping onto the control panel. “It’s a fucking portal-they’re gonna get away!”

“Open fire! Aim exclusively for their engines and any weak points created by our first attack!” 

\----

Krystal exhaled deeply in relief and she had only just realized how her lungs ached from unintentionally holding in her breath. She brought her ship to a slower, even pace and was pleased to see they still had plenty of fuel. Sauria was so close now. 

Anya’s jaw dropped from the sight of it. 

Surface wise it was unlike any planet she had ever laid eyes on. It was slightly larger than earth and several of its continents appeared almost an eclectic mismatch. Stuck into the planet’s body. The result of the damage it had suffered all those years when one of its moons had been brought crashing into it. Its landscapes were varied. Pristine jungles, mountains, snow and volcanoes. The ocean so blue and clouds a soft white it seemed magnificently unreal.

She found the planet beautiful. Unusual to behold, but beautiful. To think that a monster like Scales had been born and raised on it was mind boggling. 

“Welcome to planet Sauria,” Krystal smiled, so wide and innocently. 

“So,” Anya cleared her throat as they were moments away from entering the planet’s atmosphere, she noticed a faint shimmer just above the clouds. Translucent to the point of being nigh invisible and would certainly escape detection from nearly any naked eye. 

“A force field?”

“Yes. Sauria has a shield protecting all its surface. There are only a few select points that we may enter.”

A planetary wide defense! Earth, for all its advancements in the realm of technology could only salivate at the idea of such an incredible feat. 

There was a jolt that shook them in their chairs at the sudden change in pressure, the windows reflexively darkening to blot out the intense glow of the fire that licked at the underside of the ship with atmospheric entry. So effective that it reduced it to little else than a flickering that lasted only moments as they descended downward. 

“So,” Anya restarted her initial questioning, “how do we find these SpellStones?”

“I’m still working on that,” Krystal replied in total earnestness. It was such a blase, matter of fact declaration, her sweet face locked in a stern expression that Anya couldn’t resist giggling. Krystal retorted with a mock glare before breaking out into a smile and a laugh herself. 

They both trusted the other enough to know that they would make things function in their favor. It was time to go to work.


	18. Chapter 18

“Welcome to Thorntail Hollow,” Krystal beamed widely as her ship’s engines powered down with a soft hum that reverberated throughout the hull. Anya could feel it in her legs and into her hips. Even from within the aircraft’s interior the beauty of the environment was not given full justice until they set foot outside. The sun was sweetly bright and it added an aura of vibrant life to the already lush and healthy green grass. Through the Hollow’s center a river cut through it and the water was so clear it defied Anya’s earth sensibilities about how tempting it was to take a sip. By its shore there were tall stalked plants with bright green bulbous tips and the trees bore a startling resemblance to palm trees. Anya’s arms rested at her sides as her eyes drank in the sights and basked in the warm, welcoming glow the Saurian landscape offered without judgment. She smiled to such a degree her cheeks began to ache but she cared nary a bit. 

Beneath the water long grass swayed like the hair of a mermaid in a manner that was almost benevolently hypnotic. In a not too far off distance there was a small waterfall that delivered the liquid to the Hollow. Carried there by an intricate stone structure flanked on either side by walls. Engraved with Saurian symbols and ever so slightly mossy.

And there were dinosaurs. Living, breathing, and entirely tangible dinosaurs. Large, brown skinned, with friendly beaky faces and hardened carapaces adorned their backs. Their spikes sharpened to perfection down to their stubby tails. Some were slowly eating grass, only taking a brief respite to look upon the new arrivals. One dipped its head towards the river to take a drink. A thick, red tongue lapping up the substance and its tail swayed in an innocently open happiness. A few others napped in the sun. Their strong legs tucked beneath them like enormous felines; though one humorously slept on its flank, a foot twitching every few seconds. 

Anya laughed. Just a laugh. The kind that originates from the serene joy of bearing witness to the sight and experience of something truly beautiful. Untainted by the banalities and cruelty inflicted by the lowest forms of life in the universe. Her eyes well and she had to take a moment to wipe them with the backs of her hands and compose herself. 

Krystal smiled.

“It has that effect,” she commented. Recalling the time she had first arrived here herself and had found its grace profoundly moving. It was that beauty that called for her protection. To be delivered from the wickedness that was hellbent on defiling it for its own sinister and vicious ends. 

There were moments where she pondered how a beast like Scales could have been born on Sauria. 

One of the Thorntails slowly plodded up towards them. From a distance they still appeared large, but up close it truly registered to Anya just how immense they were in a much more personal sense. 

In regards to height both she and the vixen came up around its hip region. The skin rough and unmistakably reptilian in nature. The eyes complimented by thick brows and containing a curious but friendly aura. So close that had Anya wanted to she could have reached out to touch its head but refrained lest the gesture be misconstrued as derogatory. The majority of the dinosaurs on this planet were sapient. 

And capable of speech. 

It greeted them in a voice that though it was light, was male. And in a language she could not recognize strictly in terms of words, however she did recognize it as that tongue that Krystal had first spoken to her before learning English. 

Krystal chuckled with a smile and responded flawlessly in the Thorntail’s native language. Her hand extended and she caressed his head in greeting, his beak forming a broad smile and even going so far as to lean into her touch with a cheery rumble. The stubby tail wagged and stirred the soft grass with the softness a cool evening breeze. Anya cautiously extended her hand as well, rearing her hand back only once when the dinosaur regarded her. Her fingertips had been so close to his flesh she could almost feel a crackle in the space between her fingers and his head. 

The skin was leathery and warm and her fingers traversed the natural creases and wrinkles in the reptilian hide. Though entirely gentle she could easily detect the sheer mass of muscle that lay concealed within. The Thorntail rumbled happily once more and Anya could not hold back a smile and a breathy, amazed laugh. 

“Come,” Krystal placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder, her warm smile drawing the burgundy haired female back into the present. “He says we have business to discuss with the Queen Earthwalker.”

“Meeting a queen already? All in a day’s work for me nowadays, it seems,” Anya chuckled with an air of humorous incredulity. In a rapidly short span of time she had transformed from a planetary colonist into an outright galactic adventurer. Increasingly a close companion of a space vixen, in a war with dinosaur men and now on the surface of a planet that was the home of entirely authentic dinosaurs. 

The Thorntail guided them deeper into the Hollow, his footsteps whispering in the grass with a level of delicateness few would anticipated from such a large creature. Thorntail were the complete opposite of the Sharpclaw in all conceivable mannerism. 

The thought of the Sharpclaw was enough for Krystal to raise her face to the clear and wonderfully blue skies of the Hollow. She hoped the missiles would be enough to eliminate Scales and his horrid, precious weapon but she knew better than to allow false hope to dominate her mind. Scales was survivable. And now the pressure would be amped up to a breaking point and only one side would be able to endure past the final result. 

Whatever it was. 

The two followed the Thorntail silently, their footsteps rustling across the untainted grass and as they moved alongside a rocky path that gradually extended upward and into a series of caves Anya’s eyes flitted towards a set of plants. The dirt still moist in appearance despite apparently not having rained. The river trickled by sweetly. Each was marked by three, long green leaves and at its center were what appeared strange gems. Some were an icy blue hue and the others were the polar opposite, fire red. 

Her interest piqued as she brushed her fingers along one of the leaves and prodded at the red center gem. 

“Fire and ice gems,” Krystal explained, reaching past Anya to pluck the gem from the plant like a ripe fruit. Brushing strands of green away from it Anya nervously peered back at the Thorntail, who only watched them. He smiled at her and nodded, soothing her worries over potentially offending the dinosaur. 

“What do they do?”

“Exactly as the name entails,” Krystal grinned and handed the sparkling gem to her. Anya cupped it in her hand, turning it over in the light of the sun and she saw that within it was a miniature supernova of flickering, bright fire. Filling up its interior and pressing up against its sides. Waiting for release. 

“Just throw it at something when you need it,” the vixen folded Anya’s fingers over the gem, her own hands clenching her fist and she strolled past. Anya squeezed the hard fire gem once before opting to pocket it and briskly jogged after the two. 

Focusing her mind she envisioned the world around them, beautiful as it was, fading away to black. An auditorium of warm shadow that was occupied only by them. Complete privacy. So clear it was in her mind she had to alter her tangible trajectory to narrowly avoided bumping into a tree. 

“So what the hell is an Earthwalker?”

“Another dinosaur tribe. At war with the Sharpclaw.”

No words were spoken aloud in the realm of the physical. But in their private space and time they moved and spoke with the same clarity as one would hear from any organic being capable of speaking.

“At this point who aren’t they at war with?” Anya scoffed. She gripped the butt of her shotgun in anticipation. Blasting Scales’ skull apart would be a pleasure at this point in time.

“Fair point,” Krystal smirked a little as their physical bodies approached a sizable but not overly large temple that evidently doubled as a castle of sorts. The stone structure was still impossibly smooth and beautiful despite its guaranteed old if not ancient age. The Thorntail gave a deep warble, the flesh of his throat jiggling and puffing outwards as the warble transformed into a musical whistling sound. 

The flat door was marked only by a green scarab enclosed in a circle. Its legs conveying the image of it scurrying up the surface. There was a click, the image of the beetle pressing into the door. It split into four halves as it welcomed them to the temple’s interior. Dimly lit by some form of overhead lighting between connective buttresses that aligned the ceiling. Like the door, decorated with greenish blue scarabs. 

The Thorntail gestured with his head for them to enter and it was clear he would not follow and hear their private affairs. 

“What do we need from this Earthwalker?” Anya asked, still in their ethereal personal space. 

“She’ll give us the answer on where to find the Spellstones. Or at least the clue that could take us to them.”

The interior of the temple was so warm that it approached humid. The walls were carved to appear bumpy. Anya’s fingers dipped into the crevices between the thousands of shell-like bumps as they proceeded and turned the one and only corner presented to them at their right. 

“So we’re on a mystery hunt for something that few if any know the precise location of?” Anya asked, her fine brows raising. 

“Quite possibly. According to my own findings no Saurian has seen the Spellstones in centuries.”

The room ahead of them opened like a spectacular maw in contrast to the comparatively sleek and narrow hallway. A bright light in the center of the ceiling shone down and small insects fluttered insistently around it, bathing in its warmth. The ground was stone, mossy in some places. Three other stairwells dotted the north, east and west ends of the room and assuredly led either deeper into the temple or to other entrances and exits. The walls were reverently decorated with images of scarabs. And tall, humanoid figures with immaculate, impassive faces peering out at them. Smooth and garbed in beautiful, but simple robes. The highest among these humanoids wielded archaic scepters and there was the image of an object, abstract in geometry, surrounded in a halo of light in the sky. A ship?

At the center of the room and beneath the light foremost was a statue of a dinosaur. Standing tall on muscular legs and a sweeping tail that curled in mid-swipe. Arms that ended in clawed fingers, bared aggressively. Broad shouldered and barrel chested. The head somewhat upturned and a snout, filled with numerous sharp teeth, parted in an endless roar. The face predatory and eyes hooded with distinctive, heavy brows. The back was lined in rows of large, jagged spines that started from the back of its neck and down to the tail. 

“The Saurian God,” Krystal whispered telepathically. 

At the statue’s four-toed feet was the Queen Earthwalker. Or as Anya and other humans would recognize her: A protoceratops. Her back was turned to them for the moment, her great crowned head lowered in humble prayer at the feet of her God. 

Krystal beckoned for Anya to follow her down the stairs. Her boots clicked with a refined grace that was entirely natural to her. Anya moved alongside her carefully, eyes still absorbing the landscape. The air was still warm and carried a heavy atmosphere about it. The presence born of ancient holiness and stones that had heard thousands and a thousand more prayers from voices in all varieties of volume and pleas and demand. The faintest whispers of them lived in the air and echoed around the temple. 

Some nights they were clearer than others. 

A single bird. Startlingly feathered in a world of reptiles sang a note as it landed on the clawed index finger of the Saurian God. The plumage a splashing mixture of purple, blue and red. Beak sleek and narrow, reminiscent of a hummingbird. It chirped again and the small black eyes looked upon them once. Primordially opaque. 

It flew away so quickly it may as well have not even been there at all. It flapped towards the south, where the duo had emerged. And when Anya’s head whipped around to trail after it the bird had vanished. It moved quickly but Anya knew instinctively it had not disappeared so swiftly due to its speed. It was gone in the same manner a ghost fades away in the corner of one’s eye.

The Earthwalker Queen turned and Anya was taken aback by the soft and ever so slightly aged features of her face. There were friendly wrinkles in the corners of her amber eyes. Her crest was decorated with a fitting red, jeweled crown of sorts that adhered to the precise shape of her skull. 

Krystal bowed her head with a smile, the beads in her blue hair quietly clicking together. She had to suppress a faint giggle when Anya followed her gesture with such a burst of speed that it was a wonder the woman didn’t acquire a case of whiplash. Her curiosity was such an endearing feature and for one so intensely guarded there was still an aura of innocence held preciously within. 

“Oh Krystal, thank goodness you’ve returned,” the Queen sighed in open exhaustion. Anya contained her surprise that she spoke English. She would have to ask how some of the dinosaurs could speak what most earthly experts deduced was a language unique to their homeworld that was so many lightyears away now. She knew Scales could speak it as well. 

“I came as fast as I could,” Krystal returned to a fully upright posture, folding her arms beneath her bosom and the toe of her boot slid along the ground as she adjusted her stance. In the shadows of the Saurian God they both were struck with the knowledge that the task they would undertake was the final stretch. The deciding factor that would determine a greater fate that few could ever even futilely attempt to conceive of. 

\---- 

The space above Sauria rippled as heat hovers over a desert ground beneath the scorching sun. Tendrils of energy snaked from the increasing distortion and tore it in two, light shone from the opening to herald the arrival of the _Titanosaurus_ and the small but seemingly indomitable fleet that followed it. 

Within the bridge Scales loomed over his crew, control panels sparked and the overhead lights flashed from red to white, signifying a damage alert. 

Scales growled to himself before barking out his next order.

“Damage report, now!”

An operator scrambled at the controls. The rage of Scales lanced into his turned back and seared his nape with a frightening intensity. And the general, though no one voiced the concern aloud, had only grown more wrathful and unhinged ever since capturing the Krazoa and all that it entailed in and of itself. 

“Still operational sir, but the engine room has sustained heavy damage from those missiles.”

“How long until it is repaired?” His mad eyes looked out over the hull of the ship, his single hand touching the glass and for a moment he could have sworn he felt the icy metal of the pyramid that rested upon it. 

“Now?”

“Yes. Now. Do you think a ship containing one of the most powerful spirits in the universe alongside the greatest weapon ever created should have a maimed engine!” Scales’ voice tapered off into a roar and his fist collided with the operator’s skull. The crew winced, their stomachs flopping squeamishly as their fellow Sharpclaw flopped out of his chair. Blood oozed from his left eye, blossoming from beneath his eyelids and trickling down his toothed snout like a tear. A blatant, grotesque dent in his cranium. His now empty chair creaked as it settled. 

“Get the best repairmen down there on the double.”

A beat of silence before the boldest saluted and immediately set off. Less eager to fulfill the dictator’s wishes as he was to get out of the bridge. 

“Krystal lives,” Scales spoke. Not to anyone specific as it was only a vocal assertion of what he knew deep in his heart. And what he feared above all else. 

“H-how do you know sir?” A gravelly voiced soldier inquired. He clenched his hands together to stop them from shaking. He would have liked his return to his homeworld to have been a monumental triumph that they all could have shared in. 

Scales did not look at him. 

“Why else would we have pursuers. And human ones no less!” He laughed.

“Gather the best of our men and bring them to me. There will be no mistakes this time. I lead this charge myself!”

“And what of the enemy fleet?”

Scales thought for a moment. He knew that with the engine room damaged as it was it would currently be far too great of a risk to simply raze the majority of Sauria to ashes from orbit. And, as frustrating as it was to admit, he still had need of it. For now. 

Scales smiled cruelly and began leisurely pressing buttons on the cannon’s control set. His murderously livid mood seemed to disperse entirely as he felt he had snatched back control of the situation.

“I can leave them a welcoming gift.” 

As the pyramid glowed and hummed to life once more the crew trembled as to imagine what Scales’ darkly facetious choice of the word “gift” could entail.


	19. Chapter 19

The cave’s shadowy embrace was not at all foreboding as the duo snaked and traversed through it. Slight openings in the ceiling allowed beams of sunlight to filter through, highlighting the wispy coiling tendrils of old dust in the air. It’s temperature was cool and it welcomed them deeper as they passed through the light and the shadow alike. Warm air billowed down a passage to their left and with a flick of her wrist Krystal indicated that is where they must enter now.

“Where are we going?” Anya asked, ducking beneath the low lip of the entrance before returning to a fully upright posture. It had been a disappointing feeling of having to return so immediately to business when such a beautiful planet all but begged to be innocently explored by her. Real dinosaurs, magic, ancient ruins and civilizations. It was practically enough to make her salivate. The extraordinary was all that seemed possible now. 

“Moon Mountain Pass.”

The air grew increasingly warmer the further they progressed and the walls became tighter. 

“A piece of one of Sauria’s moons. The home place of all Sharpclaw,” she explained, leaping over a small gap in the floor. So dark was the opening it appeared as more of a maw than a simple hole. 

Anya braced herself before springing, landing with a puff air and brushing a stray lock of burgundy hair from her pale face. 

“The one that was destroyed all those years ago?”

“Yes.”

Anya raised a brow at the realization that the Sharpclaw were not innate Saurian natives but instead a reptile species from a long dead moon that doubled as their homeworld. She wondered if the magic that had been used to destroy their home had inspired them to become conquerors. Or, at least, to be more susceptible to the manipulations of a tyrant. She felt intuitively that Scales’ true goals were of a far more personal and esoteric nature than just the creation of an empire and the destruction of his enemies. She knew Krystal was unable to read his mind even at a passing glance and that inspired a morbid curiosity within her. But if she was bluntly honest with herself would the answer be something she wanted to carry the knowledge of?

“Will it be dangerous?”

Krystal’s tail swayed a moment in thought as they rounded a craggy and decidedly unwelcoming corner. She sensed nearby some present danger but oddly not Sharpclaw. Something more vicious in what could be termed a primitive way. Governed by instinct. But beneath it, like a sea snake that slithered beneath clear waves and sunny skies, resided a malevolence that was primordial in its everlasting fury. 

“There is something waiting but I’m not entirely sure as to what. Be on your guard,” she regarded Anya with a considerate nod. They walked on. 

The air grew humid. Stiflingly so and as they turned to the left the cave gave way to an opening. 

The sky was constantly murky with darkness and thick, heavy clouds that never moved. The ground was as gray as the surrounding mountains that jutted up all across the landscape like shark fins slashing through the ocean’s surface. Vines crawled up the walls and held on with an aggressive insistence. Violet, bulbous tipped plants that bizarrely resembled the tendrils of jellyfish swayed lazily in the stiff, hot breeze. What looked to be tunnel pits sporadically dotted the ground. A noise made Anya jolt. It was a long, droning cry that filled her heart with an increasing anxiousness. It was so very similar to whale songs it entered the realm of the uncanny. The singing echoed with a ghostly ambiance. Bouncing off walls and mountains for all time; and the woman had a distinctive and very good idea that it would be in her best interest to avoid what or whoever was making that sound. Moon Mountain Pass was the picture perfect polar opposite to everything about the heavenly Thorntail Hollow.

She shuddered, her skin tingled as though a centipede was skittering up her spine. 

“I’m sure you don’t need to be told this, but avoid any holes you find in the ground.”

As if answering a scheduled vocal cue, a pit to their right erupted a hot green flame. A geyser of infernal flame. 

“Because of that?”

“Others contain predators. The Kalda Chom.”

“Noted,” Anya murmured and jerked her chin forward as an indication she was ready to press on.

She kept her shotgun ready and Krystal was already gripping her staff, prepared to extend it to battle length and deliver quick death in the blink of an eye. 

And while the thought of being mobbed by enemies was daunting enough, it was all the more suspicious that aside from themselves no living thing was in sight. There was no movement. No sounding of any alarms.

Krystal’s tail lashed at the uncomfortably familiar recognition that someone was watching. Aware of them but not yet willing to strike. 

“Where the hell are the Sharpclaw?” Anya grumbled, wincing in surprise as another geyser of fire erupted and made her heart jolt further. “This is supposed to be…”

The elevated fortress ahead of them was obliterated. A mess of splintered wood and crumpled metal. The reeking putridness of carrion assaulted their nostrils in greeting and it was all the worse in the humidity. Even Krystal could not stave off a cough and slapping a hand over her mouth. The corner's of her eyes watered. 

Footprints marred the ground. Three-toed and tipped with claws and Krystal’s eyes widened in horror at the largest and deepest of them. 

“Redeye!” She did not shout but the shakiness of the vixen’s voice was enough for Anya to cock her shotgun. 

“Redeye?”

“Sauria’s apex predators.”

They moved more briskly towards the fortress’ remains. Alas it was the only way forward. Any semblance of order it had once possessed was rendered utterly nonexistent now. The Redeye had broken their way through it seemingly with little in the way of opposition. Fat buzzing flies called the place their temporary home and body parts were strewn haphazardly about. Their eyes still watered at the stench. Anya dry heaved. 

Krystal did not look down as her boot accidentally kicked aside an arm. Tendrils of rotted mangled flesh and bone jutted from where it had been bitten off. Anya grimaced and kept her eyes peeled for any survivors. 

Gunpowder littered the ground and barrels were scattered and smashed all about without rhyme or reason. 

Krystal marched down the ramp that led to a wide ravine that granted them more mobility but left them far more exposed. Vastly more so than she would like to be. 

“We must get to higher ground,” she said. Redeye were largely built for flat ground and forest pursuits. The uneven mountains and narrow passages would leave the predators in the dust when it came time to evade them. 

Movement stirred their attention behind them and both wheeled about it as a Sharpclaw, or rather what was left of one, emerged from the rubble. Burly in stature and moments from his last breath. His body maimed by teeth that pierced his armor and a leg horrifically bent to such a degree it was a wonder he even stood. But, it was clear his body was numbed by a state near death.

His eyes rolled erratically in his head and his arms hung like a limp marionette. With the last amount of effort he could conjure he fixed his dying glassy eyes upon them. Weapons still trained on him. But his last action was not what either would anticipate at the time. 

His final word was in Saurian; and Anya could recognize the intent behind it without needing to speak the language.

**“Run.”**

Krystal’s turquoise eyes widened and without warning she shoved Anya aside and down the ramp. With nary a moment to spare the warrior vixen flipped as the green cranium of a saurian colossus exploded through. The jaws searching for Krystal, wet tongue flailing in animalistic excitement in the thrill of the hunt and the beginnings of a roar erupted from it. She felt the hot and utterly rancid breath waft over her, stirring the follicles of her fur but Krystal maintained her grace; tucking her legs and tail in she avoided the snapping maw and landed neatly as Anya stared at the beast, at a loss. 

Wood, metal, powder and limbs littered around them like a madman’s caricature of rainfall. Eyes hatefully fixed upon them. The Redeye King had made himself known. 

Anya recognized the monster as being nearly identical to the believed long extinct Tyrannosaurus Rex. His skin was jade green and his head, fittingly, crowned by black thorny spines. And true to his bequeathed namesake, his eyes shined the color of blood. His full height was nothing short of staggering. Though on earth there had been some exceptions, but consistently the average T-Rex at most reached twenty feet. The Redeye King was a full thirty. It was reasonable to deduce he potentially weighed several tons. His body a mass of muscle than was honed to perfection. Built for predatory dominance and annihilation. His specialty was killing. No more. No less. And for his long life it was an urge than served him well. 

Even the seven hunting compatriots that darted from the caves and hidden ravines behind them did not match him in physique. 

Eight murderous dinosaurs enclosed upon them and Krystal spoke bluntly. 

“Hold onto me.”

Anya gripped Krystal’s midsection carefully, firmly controlling her breathing as the Redeye King sprang into motion. His size belaying his astonishing speed. Rubble and dust scurried and flew from his body in a display. The dust floated and trailed behind him like some enormous cape and a bellow rumbled the jowls of his throat. Energy pulsed from the staff’s tip and danced towards its bottom, the two of them leapt into the air in unison; two the smaller Redeye scrambled to a halt at the odd display and their minds struggled to pin down what was happening.

They received an answer much sooner than they would like.

When the staff touched the ground a shockwave shook the area closest to them and the dinosaurs tumbled and tripped over it clumsily. The ground trembled as thousands of pounds of reptile stumbled oafishly to the ground in a daze. The Redeye King fought fiercely to maintain his equilibrium but moments later he joined his compatriots. Anya winced at the fittingly colossal booming of a body that was in excess of well over a ton slammed down just feet away from them.

“Move, now!” Krystal pushed Anya onward and fireballs pelted the Redeye King’s face and she was dismayed to see how little effect it had and quickly sprinted off. In contrast to the smaller and more simpleminded dinosaurs the Redeye King held an evil aura about him. Lacking in more sophisticated sapient depth but he clearly fancied himself the ultimate predator. An apex who believed he should kill where he wanted and when he wanted. And held other lifeforms in supreme contempt. And most frighteningly, that rage was now directed entirely at them. 

Krystal grunted as she sprang over the snapping jaws of a still disoriented Redeye, gagging at the offensive scent of its breath and loosed another fireball at the ground once she was sure they were clear of most of it. 

The stray gunpowder burst into glowing flame. Shadows splashed and shifted along the gorge walls. All fanged and so gigantic they bled into each other in one amorphous conglomerate with murderous intentions. 

The Redeye King only charged through the flames, unaffected and now all the more determined to chase them down. Three Redeye screeched in pain as the intense heat licked unforgivingly at their bodies, jolting and twisting about at random like janky machines struggling to escape. Four followed their leader fearlessly. Fire and smoke fizzling off their frames. 

As fast as the two were the Redeye were bearing down on them in mere seconds. An average Redeye could sprint at a minimum of twenty to twenty five miles per hour when they worked themselves up to it. Stories of the Redeye King indicated he could achieve as much as forty. With their robust legs and hips they were ideal for charging across plains and through forests. Their bodies able to bully their way through most potential obstacles. The walls were still too vast in height for them to scale via the staff’s jet propulsion. They could only run straight forward and it was too risky to stop and launch some fully coordinated attempt at a counterattack. Though the Redeye King was clearly sapient to an extent he was still a beastly predator. There would be no slow cornering and trusting that his prey wouldn’t try to escape. The second he would be able to do so he would snap them up in his crushing jaws and piercing teeth. 

Growling, her hair bouncing and flying like the tail of a red comet Anya veered off to the left shouting obscenities and taunts. Wantonly firing on the Redeye, antagonizing them to single her out. The shells had no hope of dealing any noteworthy pain on the primary mass of their bodies, but even so it was evoke the desired response.

Two swerved off towards her. Their leader and the remaining final two maintained the pursuit of Krystal. 

Anya kept swearing and hissing insults at them, whether or not they understood be damned. Her back hovered only inches away from one of the pits and her increasingly developed instincts whispered at her to wait. Just wait. She found herself smirking in spite of it all. 

Confidently she shot one in the left eye. It screamed as a flower of blood pooled where the beady yellow eye had been seconds before. Its jaws snapped ragefully together as it scrambled in an open panic to adjust to now partial blindness. The other kept moving as she anticipated and with all her might she threw herself to the side, tucking into a roll to nullify any chance of injury from impact. Unable to match its smaller opponent’s speed the Redeye passed over the pit just as a geyser of green fire detonated in its face. Its eyes popped grotesquely in its head and unable to halt itself in time it only kept running. The Redeye was scalded. Its sternum, belly, groin and thighs all victim to its recklessness. The howl that resulted was so high pitched Anya momentarily clenched her hands over her ears as the Redeye collapsed, quickly entering shock. Left leg curled close to its dying, burned and smoking body, twitching futility. 

The half blind Redeye fixed on her with its good eye, feet shifting in uncertainty. The entire area was marked with pits and there would be no way for it to grow accustomed to his totally blind left side. A rivet of blood ran down the side of its face and dripped like a slow rain. 

Anya stood, a blast of green fire highlighting her, shotgun cocked. The gust of hot air blew strands of her hair like tongues of fire and she did not move. A staredown. A contest between lifeforms that could be traced back since before time had a name. 

The Redeye decided it wasn’t worth it. It literally turned tail and ran. Live to fight another day. 

\----

Krystal grunted in excretion as she struggled to evade her three enemies. She weaved and dodged around their feet. Keeping herself light on her own and twirling and dashing about the hefty limbs with the unpredictable moves of a wild dancer. But she was agonizingly aware of the brutal fact that she couldn’t maintain her evasion forever. The dinosaurs stumbled among themselves clumsily, fighting spastically to keep her in their crosshairs but coming up frustratingly short. Their difficulty in coordinating made all the more tiresome by their sizes. When one darted in Krystal would move and the closer of the trio would scrambled to keep up. More than once a Redeye found itself being bludgeoned with a tail or running into it each other. To which warning snaps and hostile growls would result.

The Redeye King hissed and promptly smacked one of his smaller compatriots aside with his gigantic skull and the other’s body bashed off the mountain wall. Rocks pelted his body as he lay there, stunned. He had no further interest in pitiful teamwork with lesser hunters.

Redeye were only rarely pack hunters. And the cracks in their strenuous alliance was something the vixen was deliberately vexing for all she could. 

She thrusted with her staff and stabbed through the ankle of the remaining smaller Redeye and earned a yowl as it stumbled to the sidelines to assess its wound. Krystal panted and narrowly escaped being crushed underfoot by the aggressive king. The impact however still sent her stumbling, staff clattering into the distance. The mystical weapon, so immaculate in its design and deadly beauty the ground appeared unworthy to even be touched by it.

Krystal’s ears flattened against her head in concentration as the smaller dinosaur darted for her, swooping in low. All but slithering its upper body along the dusty ground. Spots of thick saliva dotted the ground. Krystal sprinted towards it and jumped, her palms slapping with lingering sting off of the thick hide as she propelled herself off the great head and tucked into a landing roll.

The Redeye King plowed into his follower with the same unconcerned wrath of a runaway train and quickly hauled himself towards her in a bellowing, huffing rage. Nostrils flaring and teeth wet in anticipation. He would endure this humiliation no further!

The jaws parted...and snapped down. 

But not upon flesh and bone. 

Krystal stood motionless. Elbows crooked and palms facing outward, her brow creased in hard focus, her arms trembled under the strain of an unseen weight. Between herself and the crushing jaws and rending teeth was a domed, blue hued barrier. It shimmered and ripples where the Redeye King’s teeth savagely pressed into it traveled all along its surface. A barrier composed entirely of psychic energy generated solely by her own intense, indomitable will spared her from her the Redeye King's teeth. 

Enraged he released the barrier with an unearthly shriek. A foot raised in readiness to come down a vengeful force to pulverize her into pulp. 

The barrier gave way under mental strain and Krystal collapsed, unconscious. Dust particles hovered above her prone body. 

The foot descended. 

But not as fast as the boulder that tumbled down from the mountainside did. 

It clobbered the Redeye King over the back of his head like a cannonball, the single boulder transforming into hunks of shattered rock and pebbles and the king flopped unceremoniously onto his flank. Akin to the image of a lethargic beached seal. The clawed toes curled and his tail tip tapped the ground and his eyes rolled up his head as he frantically struggled to keep himself conscious.

Anya both dashed and slid down the mountain and landed, her boots absorbing much of the impact and seeing the dinosaurs were down she made a mad dash towards her friend. Her arms ached from the manual labor it had taken to tip the boulder just far enough to send it rolling and tumbling down the mountain. 

“Krystal! Krystal!” She cradled her, running a hand over her lovely blue and white face, relieved to spot no evidence of maiming or broken limbs. The vixen’s eyelids fluttered and soft groan brought a radiant light of relief into Anya’s chest. 

They needed to keep moving.

She heaved Krystal over her shoulders and jogged as much as she was able to towards the staff and did not tempt anxiety by taking a single moment to look back. Looking back was irrelevant. They certainly would not be subtle upon reawakening. 

Scouting for a low dip in the walls she peered up and down in such speedy repetition she almost induced a wave vertigo. But most fortunate for them her search was not in vain. 

The gorge walls had descended as she went deeper into it, but not enough to jump on her own. Not without aid. 

The stuff suddenly came to life in Anya’s hand, making her yelp. It pulsated with light and audibly gave off a high pitched but pleasant hum. She could feel a vibration in her hand. Warm and encouraging and purring its way into the core of her body. She lifted it and looked upon it with tentative curiosity.

“You want me to use you?”

The glow dimmed in the way the sun’s rays vanish in the darkening horizon and the hum sang on in the embrace of the gorge until it too drifted away. 

“Okay.”

Anya planted the tip of the weapon to the ground, marking the dusk with it and she gripped it tightly, knuckles whitening. 

_“Come on. Come on, you can do this.”_

A rumble in the distance. 

She closed her eyes. Exhaling and relaxing her fingers.

In her mind, truer than sight she envisioned the staff’s energy dancing and flowing into what she needed. Their mutual vibrations thrumming like instrument strings plucked by skilled fingers until they were the same. 

And they were airborne. 

The wind whipped her hair and her eyes narrowed in the sudden gust and she laughed as she landed, doubling over but managing to keep Krystal safely on her shoulders. Her legs and hands brushing the warm stone. 

At her will the staff condensed. 

“Thank you,” she said to it, almost fainting from the high energy of the battle and synchronizing with Krystal’s staff. Breathing out she forced herself upright. 

She walked on.

**Author's Note:**

> The first three chapters here are reposted from my DeviantArt account in the wake of the site soon to be forcing its "Eclipse" feature on all site users. 
> 
> -
> 
> Lately I've felt a strong sweep of nostalgia for Krystal and the Star Fox series as a whole. Watching cutscene and gameplay clips, fan art, etc. Krystal and the series proving to be key points of my younger years. I've always liked Krystal and consider her to be important to me even to this day and frankly, brushing up on current SF affairs I find Krystal's treatment by the companies that make the games...shall I say: Disappointing. 
> 
> So, I embraced the adage of "If you want something done right, do it yourself." 
> 
> This will not be a traditional Star Fox fanfiction. It will be entirely Krystal and original character driven and could be brazenly labeled an alternate universe story. I'm not sure how frequent updates will be but inspiration and that creative urge has been strong so I certainly plan to continue. If all continues as I'm largely certain it will I intend for this to be the Krystal-centric story that I believe she's always deserved.


End file.
